


It Was Never For Cersei

by BecauseBraime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon through 8x04, Dany still went mad, F/M, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, The Lannister twins are not crushed by bricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 130,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Jaime fears that Cersei is winning the war when the missive arrives at Winterfell. He returns south to kill Cersei, and breaks Brienne's heart to keep her safe. When he finds his sister pregnant, Jaime knows he can't kill her. Instead, Jaime helps her flee until she can birth the babe. Meanwhile, more surprising truths are revealed about Brienne's lineage that change the course of the dragonpit summit.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sansa Stark & Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 1197
Kudos: 506





	1. The Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizziebee93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizziebee93/gifts).



> I take zero credit for this plot! This idea belongs to the wonderful lizziebee93 and I'm merely helping bring it to life!

The space was dimly lit, and shadows danced on the tent flaps opposite Jaime. Shifting his weight slightly, Jaime sighed against the post and cursed his own stupidity. When he approached the army encampment, weary from lack of sleep on his hasty retreat south, Jaime hadn’t thought to cover his golden hand. It was his undoing.

Of course, Jon’s men immediately assumed that Jaime was returning to Cersei’s side. A traitor to the men he fought beside only two moon turns earlier, the soldier sneered and looked to Jaime as they always had; the Kingslayer.

His moniker was a curse on their tongues as the guards hauled him to a tent in the middle of the field. A bitter laugh bubbled in Jaime’s throat as the memory of Robb Stark’s camp pushed to the front of his mind.

Jaime hung his head and considered his hurried journey south. He had been haunted by the image of sapphires drowning in a sea of tears.

Every part of Jaime hated himself for lying to Brienne. For letting her think that he meant to return to Cersei’s side. It was with selfless intent that he used the most hurtful words possible. It was the only way to ensure that Brienne did not dare follow him south.

For Jaime, there was no other way. The moment Bronn swaggered into the inn at Wintertown, Jaime knew that he was on borrowed time. With threats of picking off lead commanders, Jaime knew who Bronn meant, and who Cersei would come for if she won the war.

At first, Jaime thought he could will it all away. He thought that he could live in ignorant bliss while disregarding the war to the south.

_ She has two dragons. How can she not win? Bronn will go slinking back south when this is all over. His financer will be unable to pay his lost wages, and he’ll bargain with Tyrion for his bloody castle instead.  _

Then the letter came detailing the shifting tides of war. Cersei had managed to fell a dragon and capture the dragon queen’s closest friend and adviser. A familiar pull beckoned Jaime back to the capital. Cersei.

This time, he would not return to her side like the whipped dog she trained him. From the time they could walk, Cersei guided Jaime down whatever path she chose. Now he would forge his own path. He would return to kill her.

Jaime knew that Brienne had the right of it. It was likely that he would die in the process. Two mad queens were going to destroy the very city that he now sat in a tent on the outskirts of.

All Jaime cared about was ensuring that Brienne stayed safe. Further, it was likely that she would be safer without him. No matter how hard he tried, Jaime could not break free from Cersei despite his desire. Like a siren, she called him home to await death.

_ ‘We came into this world together and we’ll leave it together, brother.’ _

Cersei had made it clear from a young age that Jaime was hers. Any girls visiting the Rock who showed interest in Jaime never lasted long at court. At the time, Jaime hardly cared. He was preoccupied with his knightly endeavors and doing as Cersei bid him. The idea of wanting for another never entered his mind. Never until Brienne.

Jaime had loved Brienne for longer than he cared to admit. Somewhere between sapphires, hands, and bear pits, he fell in love with her. Until a few weeks ago, Jaime only had one regret where it concerned Brienne; not accepting the depths of his love for her sooner.

In truth, he had yet to confess as much to her, but he wanted to believe that she knew. He wanted to believe that she felt it every time he kissed her, laid with her, and held her.

Now Jaime had a second regret; leaving Brienne with the thought that he was still Cersei’s creature. It took everything in Jaime to let Brienne hold onto that belief when he left her crying in the courtyard. As much as it destroyed him, Jaime would do anything to keep Brienne safe, including hurting her emotionally.

The sound of the tent flaps moving back broke Jaime from his spiraling thoughts. A large shadow touched the fabric of the tent wall that Jaime faced, but on approach, the shadow shortened to a height that could only indicate Tyrion’s arrival.

“How did they find you?”

_ Come now, Tyrion. You know that I’ve always been the stupidest Lannister. Have a little faith in me to fail tragically. _

Raising his golden hand in response, Jaime smirked as he imagined the eternal disappointment on his little brother’s face.

“Did you consider taking it off?”

With a slight sigh, Jaime dropped his hand back into his lap. “Cersei once called me the stupidest Lannister.”

“You’re going back to her, to die with her.”

_ To die, quite likely. _

Shaking his head, Jaime spoke to his greatest concern in the battle to come. “You’ve underestimated her before.”

Tyrion narrowed his eyes; an unamused expression tugging at his features. “She’s going to die unless you can convince her to surrender. Change her course of action.”

Jaime wanted to laugh. The thought of Cersei surrendering anything was as likely as Brienne being dishonorable.

_ I thought that I was supposed to be the stupidest Lannister. Tyrion means to give me a run for the title tonight. _

“Difficult to do from here.” Raising his chained wrists in demonstration, a bitter smile pulled at the corners of Jaime’s mouth.

Then Tyrion produced a key. The realization of what his little brother was doing washed over Jaime.

“When have I ever been able to convince Cersei of anything?”  _ Don’t wager your life on me, Tyrion _ .

A desperate plea was in Tyrion’s eyes. “Try. If not for yourself, if not for her, then for everyone one of those people in the city; innocent or otherwise.”

Jaime bit his lip and glanced away. It would be something else he would die with; the Kingslayer moniker. Aside from Brienne, no one knew the truth of it. Jaime considered the humor in Tyrion asking him to save the city for what was effectively the  _ second _ time.

_ The only person who might appreciate such an effort is likely to hate me more than the rest of the realm. _

Shaking his head, Jaime broke eye contact from Tyrion. When a heavy silence hung over them, Tyrion took a slight step forward and spoke again.

“We both know there is at least one innocent you care for. So does Cersei. She has a reason now.”

Jaime knew that Tyrion meant the contrived babe in Cersei’s womb. It was one of Cersei’s many lies, but a lie that she couldn’t convince Jaime of. Not this time. When he left King’s Landing, her belly was as level as the flat of his blade. If there was a babe, it wasn’t Jaime’s.

Despite his mistrust of Cersei’s lie, Jaime didn’t have the heart to deny Tyrion’s false knowledge at Winterfell. The strain between Tyrion and his queen was evident. His little brother appeared unmoored and out of sorts. It pained Jaime to see Tyrion’s loss of confidence.

Shaking his head, Jaime met Tyrion’s eyes. He tried to convince Tyrion with the lie itself. “That child is the reason she’ll never give an inch. The worst things she has ever done, she has done for her children.”

_ As have I. What I did to Bran was my greatest sin. _

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, Jaime returned to his primary concern. “It’s not impossible that she’ll win.”

“She won’t.”

Jaime ignored Tyrion’s insistent plea and continued pushing the issue. “Daenerys’ forces have been depleted. Two of their three dragons are dead. The city won’t fall…”

“The city will fall tomorrow.”

Jaime ignored Tyrion’s interruption and continued speaking to all the things he feared aided Cersei’s cause. “… She has the Lannister army. She has the Golden Company.”

“I defended the city the last time it was attacked. I know it better than anyone.”

_ Better than me? I’ve lived her nearly all my life. I was in the Kingsguard, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and head of the Lannister army. _

A bitter smirk lined Jaime’s face as he met Tyrion’s eyes. “Then I suppose I’ll die tomorrow if not before.”

“Why?”

Tyrion’s eyes were a sea of emotions. Moving closer, Tyrion crouched at Jaime’s side. He spoke of escape, a dingy, and Pentos. Jaime’s mind was awhirl with thoughts; each more bewildered than the last.

_ Escape? Row to Pentos in a dingy? With one hand? Start a new life? With who? My life is at Winterfell. My heart is held by a woman who I left crying in the snow. _

Frustration was heavy in Jaime’s tone and he spoke bitterly. “Sail past the Iron Fleet and into a new life? It’s a lot less likely than Cersei winning this war.”

“There won’t be an Iron Fleet for much longer. Do it. If you don’t, then you’ll never see Cersei again.”

_ He truly thinks that I want to be with her. My little brother would give his life for my happiness. If only he remembered where my happiness was. He was the one who said as much at Winterfell. Why hasn’t he asked about Brienne? I’ve never slept with another woman my entire life. He knows that I give myself as freely to women as Cersei affords compromises to perceived enemies. Does he know me so little? _

“Swear to me.” Tyrion’s words brought Jaime’s attention back to his little brother.

The reason to take the opportunity was a lie. It would give Jaime a chance to get to Cersei and ensure her death.

“You have my word.”

Tyrion began unlocking Jaime’s chains. His words were urgent as he glanced towards the tent flaps. “If the plan works, give the orders to have the bells rung. It will signal the city’s surrender and we can spare innocent lives.”

One element of the plan didn’t sit well with Jaime. Eyeing Tyrion warily, Jaime spoke warningly. “Your queen will execute you for this.”

“If Daenerys can take her throne without wading through a river of blood, perhaps she’ll show mercy to the person that made it possible.” Tyrion huffed a small laugh and stood up while continuing to stare at Jaime.

“Tens of thousands of innocent lives. One not particularly innocent dwarf. Seems like a fair trade.” Taking pause, Tyrion swallowed thickly and glanced away before continuing.

“If it weren’t for you, I never would have survived my childhood. You were the only one who didn’t treat me like a monster.”

Jaime felt his jaw tighten as tears pooled in his eyes. It was likely to be the last time he saw Tyrion. He only prayed they didn’t both meet the Stranger on the morrow. With a shaky breath, Tyrion reached out for Jaime. It was more than an embrace between brothers. It was a thanks and a goodbye.

Leaving the camp under the cover of night, Jaime thought on the conversation with Tyrion. He had now lied to the two most important people in his life. He betrayed their trust. In Jaime’s mind, it was a necessary evil to ensure Cersei’s madness came to an end.

When war descended upon King’s Landing the next day and Jaime found himself at the entrance to the secret passageways below the Keep, he marveled at the destruction on the Blackwater. True to Tyrion’s words, Daenerys had destroyed every Greyjoy and Golden Company ship on the bay.

Before making his way to the tunnel entrance, Jaime had done as asked and more. He rang the bells and tracked down some of his most loyal commanders. He implored them to help the innocent flee the city; to escape the madness before the queens saw fit to reduce one another to naught by ash.

Now as Jaime stepped into the passageway and made his way towards destiny, he let sapphires guide him. Brienne had always been his light in the darkness. She was his figurative guide, helping Jaime become the man he always meant to be.

As he emerged into the map room, Jaime found the area devoid of life. Any guards were likely out on the battlements and preparing to fight off Daenerys’ men as the dragon queen laid waste to the Iron Fleet.

Jaime knew that he needed to move quickly. He ran up the stairs and towards Cersei’s room. What he had not expected to encounter was the Mountain. The monster of a man stood outside Cersei’s chambers like the guardian into the Seven Hells. At Jaime’s approach, the monster of a man turned to face him fully.

Unsheathing Widow’s Wail, Jaime swallowed thickly and raised his blade at the last obstacle between him and Cersei. It occurred to Jaime that he would likely die that day without the love of his life to hold him.

The Mountain unsheathed his blade and took a lumbering step towards Jaime. After a brief hesitation, the zombie-like creature took a massive swing at Jaime’s head. Dodging the blow, Jaime moved to counter. The edge of his blade glanced off the Mountain’s side, but the monster of a man barely flinched.

Gregor’s right elbow smashed into Jaime’s jaw, knowing him backwards into the opposite wall. A sharp pain spread through Jaime’s head as he shook the double vision from his eyes. The Mountain swung hard once more, his blade catching the stone slab to Jaime’s side.

With another well-placed strike, Jaime’s blade met flesh. The act only seemed to enrage the Mountain more. With a hard kick, Jaime fell backwards and down several stairs. He felt and heard a sickening crunch in his left ribcage as his bones met stone steps.

Righting himself quickly, Jaime barely dodged another monstrous swing. His blade caught the Mountain’s shoulder and stuck. The thick arms of Ser Gregor refused to release the valyrian steel as Jaime tried desperately to retract the blade.

Before Jaime could react, steel pushed into his gut. Glancing down, Jaime saw the Mountain’s sword in his lower abdomen. A pained cry pushed past Jaime’s lips before the Mountain kicked Jaime backwards to free his own blade.

Jaime fell backwards once more; toppling down more stairs and smashing his head into the stone. The hazy figure of the Mountain stomped towards Jaime with his blade raised high. Before a killing blow sent Jaime into the Stranger’s arms, another blade came into view.

Glancing left, Jaime saw the Hound. A vicious smile stretched across the younger brother’s face as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Get the fuck out of here Kingslayer. This one’s mine.”

With the Mountain’s attention fixed on his younger brother, Jaime crawled up the stairs towards Cersei’s room. The castle began to crumble from above and Jaime laughed bitterly.

_ Of course, Brienne had the right of it. What am I needed for? Cersei will die buried in stone rather than by my hand. I’ll likely bleed out alone in a rowboat. _

The clanging of swords at his back urged Jaime forward. As he righted himself at the top of the steps, Jaime looked to his gut. He was losing blood quickly and needed to ensure Cersei’s demise. It was the least he could do for Brienne. For Tyrion. For everyone.

Before Jaime could reach Cersei’s door, she stepped into the hallway. Her eyes darted around in fear as Qyburn followed quickly at her back. The weaselly maester appraised Jaime suspiciously before running past him to order the Mountain to Cersei’s side.

It proved to be the Qyburn’s undoing. Ser Gregor flattened Qyburn’s head into the wall for the interruption from the fight with his brother.

When Cersei’s eyes landed on Jaime, she hesitated. Jaime mused that she was probably trying to determine if his drawn sword was meant for her throat or her protection.

Steeling himself for what came next, Jaime briefly closed his eyes and conjured the image of Brienne’s face. Her beautiful, innocent, sapphire pools stared back at him behind closed lids. Brienne’s eyes. Eyes he would never allow Cersei to close.

Opening his eyes, Jaime took a step forward. Then he saw the swell at Cersei’s belly. The shock of it hit him harder than the Mountain’s blow to his head. With a slight sway in his step, Jaime moved forward uneasily.

“You came back for me.” Cersei’s words broke Jaime’s resolve.

He couldn’t kill a pregnant woman. He couldn’t kill his sister. The image of Cersei running through fields with him at the Rock flashed through his mind. Jaime nodded and extended his hand.

“We need to go now. Quickly.”

As Jaime felt his arm tremble from pain and blood loss, he sent a silent apology to Brienne.

_ I can’t kill her now. Not like this. Not when she carries an innocent.  _

Jaime decided that he would see Cersei to safety. He would keep her hidden away until the babe was born. Then he would turn Cersei over to the crown and flee with the babe. It was the only honorable thing to do.


	2. The Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the journey south for the summit, Bran reflects on what is to come and looks for alternative solutions.

The sway of the carriage caused a deep ache in Bran’s head. The journey had been long and uncomfortable with little opportunity for rest. Word had arrived from the south with details of the events in King’s Landing, but Bran hardly needed to read it. He already knew. He always knew.

Two mad queens  _ presumed _ dead. Jon and Tyrion under arrest. The city destroyed.

Bran sighed as he glanced out the small window. Looking to the sky, he smiled at the ravens circling above. He wished to flee the confines of the carriage and fly among them. With a deep sigh, Bran scanned the escort surrounding the carriage.

They had roughly twenty soldiers surrounding them as they pressed forward at a painstaking pace. Straining to see towards the front of the carriage, Bran could make out the unmistakable form of Brienne as she sat atop her horse. To her right, Pod prattled on; a poor attempt to lift his lady knight’s spirits.

Just behind the carriage, Sansa rode beside Lord Royce. Bran huffed a small laugh as he overheard the conversation. His older sister was no fool. Sansa learned from the best of them; Cersei and Littlefinger. Playing the game had become as much a part of her persona, as the little girl who longed for the dashing knight to rescue the maiden fair.

Despite the little bid lingering in the woman grown, Sansa placed politics first. She would seek Northern independence at the summit to come. All Great Houses and key vassals had been summoned to King’s Landing.

The armies holding the city were at war among themselves. Those loyal to Daenerys demanded justice. Those loyal to Jon insisted on a trial for the prisoners.

Bran knew that none of it would matter in the end. Both factions would defer to the decision of the appointed ruler.  _ He _ would be that ruler.

It came to Bran in a vision. The remaining families in power sat in a semicircle deciding the fate of Westeros. There had been all manner of suggestions. Sam Tarly suggested an extreme alternative from the feudalist society that Westeros was built on. In his vision, the idea sounded reasonable to Bran, but it was mocked by the other ruling families.

_ Right idea, wrong audience. Strange to ask those holding power if they wish to transfer it to their people. _

Then Tyrion spoke. His words moved those assembled and Bran was named king.

_ I told Tyrion that I can’t be lord of anything. He names me king instead. Perhaps I should have been more specific. _

Unfortunately, there was no alternative. Bran considered others with claim, and found them lacking. Gendry was ill-equipped to rule. Jon wanted for nothing and already stood accused of murdering his chosen queen. Tyrion would never be accepted.

Unlike Gendry and Jon, Tyrion’s would-be claim was founded on his right by conquest. As Daenerys’ next in line and with her faction having won the war, Tyrion did have a case to make.

Like Jon’s claim however, there would be too much discord among the remaining armies. Further, Westeros would not accept a dwarf once accused of killing his king and later of killing his own father on the privy.

_ Shame. Tyrion would have made a fine ruler. Intelligent and, generally speaking, decent _ .

Bran considered the others in attendance; those without more obvious claim. Most were ill-equipped to rule. They were not respected, too inexperienced, or lacking the traits necessary in a sovereign. Sansa likely had the greatest potential, but she was a young woman still with lessons to come.

Pod’s voice drifted through the air and into the carriage. Bran smiled as the squire sang a few bars of a familiar tavern song. His voice was surprisingly soothing and melodic. The memory of Pod serenading those gathered around the fire before the dead arrived elicited a small smile from Bran.

While he wasn’t present physically, Bran saw the scene play out just as he saw the other solemn goodbyes between living soldiers; afraid they would never see their loved ones again. It was an unusual song choice and different from most that Bran had heard escape Pod’s lips before. After the war with the dead, Bran had asked Pod of it.

The young man had stood at Bran’s side in the godswood while Bran followed events to the south. When Bran’s eyes rolled forward after receiving the information he sought, Bran heard Pod humming.

“You have a wonderful singing voice, Pod. I heard you that night by the fire. The night your lady became a ser. Quite special for her.”

Pod startled slightly at Bran’s returned mental presence, but the surprise quickly faded away. The young man beamed at the words. “Thank you, my lord. In truth, I don’t sing quite so fine as Ser Brienne. She just won’t sing in front of anyone.”

Bran offered a small smile. He was not surprised by the insight as he often observed Brienne’s shyness. For someone as tall as Brienne, she always shrunk into the background. She preferred to be a shield than a voice.

It wasn’t until Brienne stood before Ser Jaime that Bran saw the strength in her. While she was always confident and commanding with a sword in hand, Brienne avoided public speaking and unwanted attention. For Brienne, it seemed a greater threat than the dead.

Looking to Pod, Bran hummed in consideration. “And yet, she has sung for you.”

Pride swelled in Pod’s chest. “It took some time, but she trusts me. Neither of us have much family. We look out for one another. She taught me many songs. My favorite is the one I sang that night. It’s quite beautiful, but to hear her sing it is an altogether different thing.”

Now as Bran sat in the carriage moving south, a spark ignited deep within.

_ Why would Brienne know that song? Seems a peculiar choice for a girl who grew up on an island. _

Glancing out the carriage window once more, Bran appraised the back of Brienne’s head. Unlike Pod who looked confidently to the south, Brienne’s shoulders rolled in and her head hung low. There was a melancholy to Brienne that mirrored the song.

Focusing on the pair before him, Bran took a deep breath. His eyes rolled back as he searched the past. Then he found it. The memory came in sound before sight.

A beautiful female voice hummed the bars of Jenny’s Song as Bran stood in a small clearing covered by heavy fog. Judging by the sky, it was daybreak. Moving forward slowly, the pair he sought came into view.

As Pod moved quickly to pack their meager belongings and ready the horses, Brienne sat on a rock polishing Oathkeeper. She hummed absently as she appraised the blade; the cloth in her hand working the delicate edges.

Pod’s voice distracted Brienne’s efforts as he called out over her shoulder. “That’s a beautiful tune, my lady. What is it?”

At the praise, Brienne’s face reddened, and she stopped humming. She quickly sheathed her sword and stood to help Pod.

“Jenny’s Song. Quite well-known, but a bit somber.”

Pod’s brows furrowed at the words. With a slight shrug, he stopped packing the saddlebags and looked to Brienne. “Never heard of it. What’s it about?”

“Jenny of Oldstones. She was Prince Duncan Targaryen’s wife, though his father, King Aegon, never wanted them to marry. They married in secret despite Duncan being engaged to Lord Lyonel Baratheon’s daughter.” A small huff of laughter pushed past Brienne’s lips.

“I suppose House Baratheon has never had much luck where it concerned betrothals and Targaryens. There was a short-lived rebellion over it all, but Jenny and Prince Duncan remained married. King Aegon was not pleased of it. He believed that marriages should be made for political alliances. So as punishment, Prince Jaehaerys was named heir.”

Pod’s next question peaked Bran’s curiosity further.

“How did you come to know the song?”

With a slight shrug, Brienne mounted her horse. “Don’t know. My father is descended from Ser Duncan the Tall; King Aegon’s Lord Commander. Ser Duncan would have been around the princes quite a bit. King Aegon named his son after my great-grandfather after all. I imagine that is how my House came to know the song.”

Bran considered where to look next. Taking a step towards Brienne, Bran appraised her features before the vision faded away.

_ I need to see her mother. Who was she? _

When Bran searched the past again, he came to the day of Brienne’s birth. A worried Selwyn ran into the room where his wife lay pale on the birthing bed. Glancing at the maester, Selwyn searched for answers.

“My lord, Lady Alysanne had a tough battle. Worse than Galladon’s birth. I fear what another birth may do to her, though she should be fine now.”

The maester inclined his head towards the crib where the midwife swaddled the young babe. “A girl, my lord. Healthy as an ox and bloody near the size of one. She may yet give your grandfather a run for his coin.”

Selwyn huffed a laugh and moved to hold his newborn daughter. Walking to the bedside with Brienne tucked into his massive arms, the giant of a man leaned down to kiss his wife’s head. Alysanne’s head lolled from side to side.

“Sel. The babe…”

“Healthy. Rest, Aly. You did amazing.”

A slight panic gripped Alysanne. “Her eyes… Sel… what color?”

The older lord’s eyes darted towards the midwife in the corner. Waiting for the woman to leave the room, Selwyn inspected Brienne’s eyes. A wide smile spread across his face and he looked back to his wife. Leaning in, Selwyn spoke in hushed tones.

“It’s early yet, but they appear a lovely Tarth blue. No signs of violet. Another child safe. Now rest, sweetling. I’ll keep this one entertained for a bit.”

_ No violet? Why would they be violet?  _

Bran took a step forward; his eyes fixed on Alysanne. He muttered to himself as he studied the woman on the birthing bed.

_ Who are you? _

Tilting his head, Bran concentrated once more. He closed his eyes and looked further. Voices passed as he moved quickly through a sea of faces, voices, and actions. Then he saw something that struck him.

Opening his eyes, Bran stared into the face of King Aegon V. The Targaryen king smiled down at the babe in his arms. Across the desk from Aegon were two people who Bran didn’t recognize. Ser Duncan the Tall stood just behind Aegon and smiled at the babe in his king’s arms.

Looking around the room, Bran realized where he was. Summerhall.

Aegon’s voice cut through Bran’s thoughts. “She’s wonderful. What have you named her?”

The young man across from Aegon spoke confidently and straightened in his chair. “Alysanne.”

Aegon hummed and tilted his head. “A family name and, from the look of it, the babe has blue eyes. She’s just like the Good Queen Alysanne. Mayhaps she’ll have a beautiful singing voice to match her namesake. You know what they say of us Targaryens. Blue eyes with the voice of a songbird and the heart to match. Purple eyes with the madness of the seven hells.”

The men in the room snorted at the words. It seemed a jape amongst their House which Bran had little context for.

After a momentary pause, the young man spoke once more. “Come now, father. You don’t believe all that nonsense. Jaehaerys isn’t mad, and yet he has purple eyes, as do my nephew and niece.”

Bran studied the young couple across the table. His brows rose in understanding.

_ That’s Prince Duncan and his wife, Jenny. Gods. Brienne is their granddaughter. _

Bran listened intently and studied the scene playing out before him. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Aegon spoke in more somber tones.

“It’s why I’ve called you. It isn’t your brother I fear, but Aerys. The madness has taken him. I warned your brother not to wed his bloody sister. This is why I hate the incestuous practice of our House. It breeds the madness. They defied me and now their son shows the signs. Rumors swirl of his intrigue with wildfire and blood. He can’t lead. Now Rhaella is soon to deliver their first babe. A third generation of incest. I fear their children the most. I’m restoring your birthright as my firstborn. It can’t be your brother’s line who rules. It must be you.”

Duncan gaped at the words and looked towards Jenny. “Father, you named Jaehaerys already. Aerys is practically counting the days until he takes the crown. Jenny and I are content to live peacefully among the people. We don’t want for any of it.”

“And that is why it must be you, Duncan. You were always meant to be the heir, and I’m sorry that I stripped it from you. I was angry at the pair of you. Caused me quite a headache with the bloody Baratheons.”

Glancing back at Ser Duncan, Aegon smirked. “Not too much trouble for our Lord Commander here, of course.”

With a resigned sigh, Aegon looked back to Duncan. “I’m to announce my decision at this gathering of our House. Your brother is here, and we’ll right this wrong. There will be fallout from Aerys, of that I’m certain. I think it would be best if you both stayed on Tarth for some time. Ser Duncan’s kin will watch over you. You know our history with Tarth. There is no safer place for a Targaryen to hide.”

An uneasy look passed between Duncan and Jenny, but Duncan nodded in understanding. “I’ll let our attendant know that we’re to journey to Tarth following the summit.”

Aegon nodded. “Good. No one will know of this babe until we settle this matter. I’ll have word sent to the Citadel and kingdoms. Have your attendant watch over Alysanne until it’s safe. I don’t trust Aerys if he knows there is already an heir.”

Bran stepped backwards as realization dawned on him.

_ Brienne is more than their granddaughter. She is the heir to the Iron Throne. _

The group stood from their seats and Aegon handed Alysanne to Ser Duncan. “Dunk, if you could be so kind. Please, bring Alysanne to their attendant and inform her of the need to move to Tarth when this summit is done. Then please join us in the hall. We’ve much to sort out.”

“Yes, your grace.” Ser Duncan bowed his head as he held little Alysanne. The babe looked tiny as she lay cradled in the older knight’s arms. Moving towards the couple, Ser Duncan paused and smiled warmly.

“Congratulations to the pair of you. She’s perfect.”

Bran followed Duncan from the room as he made his way down the long corridor. Aegon, Duncan, and Jenny stepped into the hallway and moved in the opposite direction. With a warm hand at his son’s back, Aegon smirked “Come. Let's go see your brother. I can only imagine what complaints he wishes to voice of his insufferable son today.”

The fate of those gathering in the hall was already known to Bran. This was the great tragedy at Summerhall. Very few survivors remained, but it seemed one survivor slipped through to Tarth. Alysanne.


	3. The Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the dragonpit, Bran reveals some big truths.

Brienne sat in the dragonpit surrounded by the other leading vassals and ruling Houses assembled. It was a summit she had hoped to avoid, but Selwyn sent her in his stead. Despite Daenerys naming Gendry as Lord of Storm’s End, the Stormlands rebuked the declaration. In typical Stormlands fashion, they named their own delegate. Lord Selwyn Tarth.

Of course, Selwyn had as much desire to attend as Brienne. When she sent her father a missive declaring that she would soon move south to escort Lady Sansa to King’s Landing, Selwyn sent a hasty reply.

_ Brienne, _

_ How incredibly convenient for me that a Tarth will be in King’s Landing for this bloody summit. The Stormlands have named Tarth as their voice in any matter concerning the Seven Kingdoms. They think as much of this Gendry fellow playing at lord at Storm’s End, as I consider water as a pleasurable alternative to brandy. _

_ Conveniently for me, our kingdom fails yet again in its prescription. They asked for a Tarth and a Tarth they shall get. Serve us well, daughter. The whole of the Stormlands is counting on you; though they don’t much realize it.  _

_ And by the Seven, girl, would you write your father more often? It would have been nice to know that you faced death itself before the bloody war. Gods. What if something had happened to you? You’re all I have left, and I would have marched North for you! Those bloody mainlanders can’t fight for shit. _

_ And to that end, need I remind you that Tarth is merely a two-day boat trip from King’s Landing? Truly, Brienne. Would it kill you to pay a visit to your father? Surely House Stark can make do with the rest of their army guarding their liege lady for a bit. _

_ Love, _

_ Your weary father _

As Brienne sat in the dragonpit, her head spun as the heat tormented her. She cursed inwardly at the decision to wear her armor, but in truth she hadn’t more appropriate attire as others did. Brienne was not a politician nor ruling lord or lady. She was a sworn sword and her armor conveyed as much.

The only thing worse than the sweat at Brienne’s brow was her body’s desperate cry for rest. Sleep evaded Brienne since the night Jaime left in the most callous of ways. It hadn’t surprised Brienne, but it hurt all the same.

Brienne knew that Jaime was never hers to keep. She was an ugly, unlovable, beast of a woman. Uglier in daylight. Still, to know that Jaime preferred death with a hateful woman than life with her, cut deeper than any valyrian steel.

Despite the hurt, Brienne loved Jaime still. A part of her would never stop loving Jaime, notwithstanding the pain he caused her. When Brienne loved, she loved with all of herself. She gave as much as would be accepted. There was little left for herself, but she didn’t need it.

_ What good is a heart when no one wants it? _

As those assembled squabbled over trivial matters, past grudges, and the state of rule, Brienne’s mind wandered. She glanced towards Aegon’s Hill mournfully. The man she loved died with the only woman he ever loved. Her heart was buried among the rubble with them.

Brienne felt pathetic; loving what could never be hers. Even still, she took whatever scraps of himself that Jaime offered at Winterfell. Any respect Brienne might have gained among the soldiers was likely tarnished when she openly laid with a man who pined for his own sister.

The thought sent a wave of nausea through Brienne. The lack of sleep was not merely from emotional anguish, but rather the physical manifestation of it. Brienne had little desire for food, and what she did eat threatened to spill onto her boots within the hour.

_ Stop being weak and pitiful. If the dead could walk among us, the Lannnister twins would laugh at an ugly cow such as me. They would have a good chuckle at my being distraught over a man I had no business with to start. _

More so than the hurt of Jaime leaving, Brienne hated the feeling of having failed. She failed Jaime for not being enough to keep him safe. She failed Sansa by allowing him to ride south to the enemy with complete awareness of their plans.

_ It’s my fault. If I was prettier, Jaime may have stayed. He would be alive. If I was stronger, I would have stopped him to better protect Sansa. She would feel safer. _

When the Unsullied brought Tyrion out for trial, Brienne felt rage pool in her gut. Tyrion let his brother flee into the Stranger’s arms. For that, Brienne could never forgive Tyrion. Despite her anger, Brienne’s expression remained cool as ever; a lesson learned from Sansa.

_ How could he let Jaime go like that? Then again, did I not do the same? Pathetic. I stood crying in a courtyard like my tears mattered to anyone at all. _

Looking to the ground, Brienne found she couldn’t tolerate the sight of Tyrion nor the reflection of her own failure in his eyes. Distantly, Brienne heard Tyrion make some long, rambling speech about ‘Bran the Broken’.

_ Good, right then. Lets name the bird as king. That makes sense. I’ll support any sovereign who isn’t mad, has a penchant for fire, or means to keep me in this pit longer than necessary. _

Bran’s monotone voice filled the space around them, cutting off Tyrion’s monologue. “I can’t be king any more than I can be lord. You think my story interesting, but I assure you there is one story far more interesting than my own. The rightful heir to the Iron Throne is among us, but not who you might expect.”

Brienne felt her blood run cold. Glancing to Bran from the corner of her eyes, Brienne saw the young man staring at her.

_ Gods. Please be looking at Gendry and my lumbering frame is in the way. _

The pit fell silent as all eyes turned to Bran. All eyes except Brienne’s. Bran’s eyes burned a hole in the side of Brienne’s reddening face, but still, she refused to return his gaze.

_ Mayhap if I don’t acknowledge him, he’ll go away. _

“Aerys’ line was never meant to rule. His father, Prince Jaehaerys, had his status as heir revoked by King Aegon V. The king named his firstborn, Prince Duncan Targaryen, as heir to the Iron Throne. He recognized the madness in Jaehaerys’ line and didn’t wish to impose it on Westeros.”

Brienne’s pulse began to race, and she felt faint. The sweat at her brow dripped down her face and into the gap between her armor and neck.

“Prince Duncan and his wife, Jenny, had a daughter. Princess Alysanne Targaryen was secreted away from the tragedy at Summerhall. Wildfire consumed the castle and most of its occupants. It was Aerys doing. His spies caught wind of the true intent of the summit and he meant to kill Prince Duncan. He didn’t know about their newborn babe though. Princess Alysanne was raised on Tarth where she wed her love, Selwyn Tarth.”

_ Fuck. Just fuck. _

Turning to meet Bran’s eyes, fear took hold of Brienne’s features. Her life had been built on a secret that was to never be told. From the moment she was old enough to walk, it was impressed upon her the importance of being a  _ Tarth _ . Not a  _ Targaryen _ .

Brienne and Galladon were not allowed to speak of their mother’s lineage. It was a secret among them; only shared as a warning. Aerys was the warning.

While Jaime’s sincerity in the bath at Harrenhal was believable, it wasn’t the only reason Brienne trusted him. Brienne knew of what Aerys was. It was ingrained in her.

Shocked eyes fell on Brienne and she scrambled to tell the lie that her father trained her for.

“House Targaryen was close with…”

Before Brienne could finish, Bran cut her off. He spoke Selwyn’s words more succinctly than she could have.

“House Tarth. Their relationship was one of friendship; not blood. King Aegon squired for my great-grandfather, Ser Duncan the Tall, who later became his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. That is as close as our Houses came to kinship. My mother was a commoner and my parents a love match.”

A tense silence hung heavy over the pit as Brienne gaped at Bran.

“How did you…”

“Know the lie that your father trained you to speak? Ser Brienne, you are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. You know why King Aegon named your line as heir. He couldn’t let the crown slip into madness. Your line has a duty to Westeros to end that madness. You do recall what else your father told you, correct?”

Brienne swallowed thickly. Her eyes darted to Sansa who sat speechless beside Bran. It felt another betrayal of her liege lady, and it pained Brienne to recall the second lesson her father gave when she picked up the sword.

Selwyn’s voice echoed in her head; his warm hands gripping her shoulders.

“I won’t ask you to claim the throne, but I will ask you to defend it. It’s your true duty as Prince Duncan’s heir and as Ser Duncan’s great-granddaughter. You are a protector Brienne, and Westeros will need your protection. Do not follow love. Follow honor. If Renly is unjust and unworthy, find a different liege to serve. Find someone who will protect the realm from madness.”

Nodding slowly, Brienne closed her eyes briefly before looking at Bran. Something in his eyes looked familiar. It felt as though she was looking at her father when Bran spoke once more.

“ _ You _ will protect the realm from madness. It is your duty now. Honor your father’s wishes and  _ his _ memory.”

The ‘ _ his’ _ hung heavy between them. Brienne thought of Jaime and her knighting. He charged her to be brave, to be just, and to protect the innocent.

_ He was the truest knight for this city. He charged me to do the same. If I don’t do my duty, I’ll fail him again. I’ll fail my father and House. I’ll fail the innocent. _

With a begrudging nod, Brienne looked to the ground. An unexpected voice at her side spoke confidently. Davos.

“I know House Tarth. They are good people. Duty-bound, honorable, hardworking, and just. Ser Brienne would make a fine queen. I would stand beside her and I know the Stormlands would.”

At his words, Sansa stood from her seat. Brienne looked to her liege lady and expected Sansa to contest the suggestion.

_ I won’t argue her refusal. She knows me better than anyone, and she knows what a poor queen I would make. I will back Northern independence if she seeks it though. _

“I would not be alive today where it not for Ser Brienne. I’ve never met a more honorable Knight and just woman. The North would recognize and bend to no ruler except her.”

Sansa’s words were confident as she locked eyes with Brienne. Pride swelled in the young woman as a small smile tugged at her lips. The sight of it caused a lump to form in Brienne’s throat. There was a sincerity there that Brienne had not expected.

Standing from his seat, Sam Tarly smiled warmly at Brienne. “I met Ser Brienne in the North. She has always been kind to me when others weren’t. Give how she fights, I certainly wouldn’t mess with her. We would all be quite safe from any threat. I would back her claim.”

At Sam’s side, another vassal from the Reach nodded. “Aye, all the Reach. I know House Tarth and my men served alongside you and the other Stormlands vassals in Renly’s camp. I heard tales of you knocking Ser Loras to his arse in a melee. Our Great House may be gone, but they thought highly of House Tarth. Lady Olenna herself spoke of you once. You have the Reach.”

Memories of meeting Lady Olenna in the gardens at the Red Keep flooded Brienne’s mind. She was a shrewd woman who was highly respected in the Stormlands. To Brienne, Lady Olenna was the type of woman who should be queen.

Lord Royce stood from his seat beside Lord Robin. “The Vale fought under Ser Brienne in the war against the dead. She commanded our flank to victory. I’ve served beside her in support of the North for some years now. She would make a fine queen.”

At Lord Royce’s words, Robin nodded. “You have the Vale. If my cousin and Lord Royce vouch for you, I know you’ll lead the kingdoms well.”

The delegate from Dorne snorted and shrugged. “You’re not a Lannister. You have Dorne’s support.”

Standing chained and broken, Tyrion offered a small smile at Brienne. “I don’t imagine anyone in my position gets a say, but I don’t see the West represented here. My brother never trusted anyone who wasn’t a Lannister… except you.”

Tyrion’s voice broke slightly at the mention of Jaime and Brienne wanted to flee. She didn’t want to hear of Jaime; particularly from Tyrion. Bran’s reminder of Brienne’s love had been more than enough to endure for the day.

Taking a deep breath, Tyrion continued. “I wish that I knew you better, but if Jaime thought highly of you, you must be of the greatest quality. I believe the West would back you.”

Edmure stood from his seat. “If I may offer an alternative…”

“You may not, uncle.” Sansa abruptly cut off Edmure; a warning glare directed his way. At Sansa’s side, Arya snorted and shook her head as she mumbled something which Brienne could not make out.

With a huff of annoyance, Edmure met Brienne’s eyes. He appraised her for a moment before speaking once more. “I suppose my House does owe you much. I’m told you served as my sister’s sworn sword and protected her children. Clearly you’ve done quite well at that.”

Inclining his head towards the Stark children, Edmure shrugged. “The Riverlands would back your claim.”

Bran smiled at Brienne. His more human expressions always unnerved Brienne as little emotion reached his eyes. They always seemed distant, even when looking at someone.

“It would seem that the Seven Kingdoms has a new queen.”

From Brienne’s left, a female voice called out. “The Iron Islands haven't backed her. Queen Daenerys offered us independence from the kingdoms, and I would see that honored.”

Sansa’s voice was cold as she stood tall and appraised Yara. “Is Queen Daenerys alive to extend such offers? I fail to see how she could make such commitments  _ before _ taking the crown. That would be like me attempting to make and enforce laws upon Pentos.”

Knowing Sansa’s desire for independence and a similar request made to Daenerys, Brienne understood Sansa’s reaction. In truth, it did seem absurd that Daenerys would grant such a request to Yara, but not the North. It wasn’t as though the Iron Islands brought substantial aid to Daenerys’ cause to make such demands.

In a similar tone to Sansa, Arya spoke with thinly veiled annoyance. “Why do you even get a vote? The Iron Islands are a constituent region akin the Crownlands. I don’t see anyone here from the Crownlands. Do you?”

Yara’s eyes narrowed and her head tilted in consideration. “The Iron Islands bend to no one save the crown. When the kingdom of Isle and Rivers was split in two, we broke from the Riverlands. I have a say, and I’ll ask for what I please.”

Yara turned her attention from Arya to Brienne. “Will the Iron Island be afforded its independence?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the question. “No. Your uncle declared the Iron Islands for Cersei. He helped spread her madness and acted reprehensibly. I don’t see why that should be rewarded, even if you claim the act stemmed from a dispute within your House.”

Yara looked around the pit in consideration. Blank stares greeted her as a warm breeze pushed across the pit. At the feel of the breeze against her neck, Brienne sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. Before speaking once more, Yara’s eyes narrowed at Brienne as an idea seemed to form at the tip of her tongue.

“Would you grant us equal footing as the other kingdoms? Name us our own kingdom and afford us a seat at the table in political matters?”

Brienne nodded slowly as she considered it. The request was reasonable and afforded a measure to keep an eye on an area that was known for its rebellious streak.

“Yes, I think that’s a fair request.”

Satisfied with the concession, Yara nodded. “Aye, the Iron Islands will back you as your eighth kingdom.”

The reality of the situation washed over Brienne. Her lineage had been exposed and her hidden claim backed by all kingdoms in Westeros.

An awkward silence fell over the dragonpit. Standing before her chained, Tyrion glanced around and looked unenthusiastically to Grey Worm at his side. With a heavy sigh, Tyrion’s eyes moved back to Brienne.

Extending his arms to illustrate his point, Tyrion spoke with uncertainty. “Soooo… shall I be afforded a trial, or will I merely be dropped into the sea with these on?”

Brienne’s eyes scanned the dragonpit. All assembled were staring at her. It seemed that dealing with Jon and Tyrion would be her first test as queen. Brienne felt ill-equipped to deal with such matters as she considered the two men held captive.

Jon was a good man despite seeming lost and brooding. It was evident that he loved Daenerys, but he chose duty over love. When he put his dagger into Daenerys, Jon saved the Seven Kingdoms from a generation of madness. The destruction of the city was evidence enough of that.

Tyrion’s crime confused Brienne. The Unsullied held him for betraying his queen by releasing his own brother into the Stranger’s arms. If anything, Brienne felt more entitled to hold a grudge than the Unsullied. Loathe as Brienne was to admit it, Tyrion’s only crime was bringing the madwoman across the Narrow Sea.

_ Had she always been that way though? It didn’t seem so when I spoke to Grey Worm. _

Brienne had trained with Grey Worm in the North. She noted the way the Northerners looked to Daenerys and her men. They treated them as a disease in need of eradicating. As someone often harshly judged and cast aside despite positive intent, Brienne felt badly for Daenerys’ men.

_ They gave us aid when the rest of Westeros wouldn’t, yet the North treated them as the enemy. _

While training with Grey Worm, Brienne was impressed by the man. He was a well-respected leader among his men. The Unsullied chose him to lead in defense of Daenerys, and he was as dedicated to his queen as Brienne was to Sansa. His fighting style was impressive, and they learned much from one another.

Further, Grey Worm was an intelligent man. He spoke multiple languages and understood strategy better than most of the Northern soldiers that Brienne was tasked with leading. Brienne had mused that the only military mind more impressive was Jaime’s, but he too was greatly underutilized in the war with the dead.

Brienne’s eyes narrowed in consideration as she appraised Tyrion. Rather than address Jaime’s meddling brother, Brienne turned her attention to Grey Worm.

“Grey Worm. Why are you holding Jon and Tyrion as prisoner?”

Grey Worm’s brows furrowed as though the question was absurd. “Jon kill Queen Daenerys. Tyrion betray us and set his brother free.”

Brienne tilted her head, her eyes remaining locked on Grey Worm. “Look behind you, Grey Worm. Look at what she did to this city. She destroyed everything. She killed innocent men, women, and children. Babes, Grey Worm. She killed everyone in her path. Mayhap Daenerys should have been afforded trial, but none of you would have allowed her imprisonment. You did your duty and protected her, but who protected the innocent? It seems to me that Jon did.”

Grey Worm’s jaw clenched and even from the distance, Brienne could see his body tremble slightly with rage. “They killed Missandei.”

_ Missandei _ . 

Brienne understood Grey Worm’s pain. They spoke of her while at Winterfell. After the wars, the young pair wished to live in peace together. If anyone understood that desire, it was Brienne. Grey Worm lost the woman he loved. The woman who loved him in return. Unfortunately, Brienne’s love was not requited.

“I’m very sorry about Missandei. She struck me as a good woman, and you both deserved to find peace. But the people of King’s Landing didn’t kill her. Cersei did. Daenerys had every right to kill Cersei for that; as did you. But Daenerys went mad, Grey Worm. That makes her no better than Cersei.”

Grey Worm’s face fell. His inner turmoil was evident, and Brienne could sense that she was getting through to him. On the way south, Brienne heard tales of what happened after the bells rang.

“You told me that Missandei was from Naath. That they are peaceful people. She wouldn’t have wanted this. I saw her kindness with the young children in the North. She would not have wanted to step over the charred corpses of innocent children to watch Daenerys ascend the steps towards her throne.”

At the words, Grey Worm’s jaw trembled slightly. He nodded in agreement before looking down and collecting himself.

“Jon and Tyrion will do Westeros no harm. Tyrion let his brother go free so that he could die with the woman he loved. Wouldn’t you have done that for Missandei? You would have wanted to be at Missandei’s side and I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance. No harm to Daenerys’ cause came from Ser Jaime going free. What would you wish to do, Grey Worm? What do your men want?”

The words hurt to say out loud; to admit that all Jaime wanted was to die with the woman he loved. At her question, Grey Worm looked to Brienne.

“We want go home. Across the sea.”

Brienne nodded in understanding. “We will help you do that. It’s the least we can do for the aid you offered against the dead. I’m sorry that you were not welcomed warmly. You saved us all.”

Brienne looked pointedly at Sansa. The day that the letter came from the south detailing the fall of Rhaegal and capture of Missandei, Brienne and Sansa had a disagreement. Brienne felt that Sansa had been unnecessarily cruel to Jaime. In truth, the frustration had been building in Brienne for some time.

Sansa was intelligent, political, and well-respected in the North. The people and soldiers followed her example. When Sansa’s attitude towards Daenerys was rivaled only by the harsh weather of the kingdom itself,  _ her _ people followed. Jon may have been named King in the North, but Sansa was the Lady of Winterfell and the person her people looked to for example.

At the nonverbal exchange, Sansa exhaled audibly and looked to the ground. It had been the first time that Brienne spoke out against her lady. While she felt bad for it, Brienne did not regret it. If anything, a newfound respect seemed to blossom between the women.

Looking back to Grey Worm, Brienne could see him softening. “We give you friends back. You help Unsullied and Dothraki leave. Fine.”

Brienne considered the man before her.

_ Grey Worm made mistakes in anger and attacked surrendered soldiers, but how is that different from other good men who make mistakes in anger? People can behave irrationally for love. It doesn’t make Grey Worm a bad man, just as Jaime wasn’t a bad man. They’ve just done bad things. _

“Thank you, Grey Worm. I would like to speak with you privately if you don’t mind.”

With a nod of agreement, Grey Worm turned his attention back to one of his men. He spoke in Valyrian and Brienne watched as the guard unchained Tyrion.

Standing from her seat, Brienne swayed slightly. “I think we’ve covered quite enough for today. The people need our help in the city. There are many injured and homeless.”

As the assembled slowly cleared out, Brienne let the events from the dragonpit wash over her. Brienne had never felt more alone and frightened. She wished her father could be there to tell her what to do. She wished Jaime was there to hold her one more time; even if the outcome had to be the same.

Glancing back up at the Keep, Brienne committed to honoring the wishes of King Aegon V; her great-grandfather. She would do her duty to the realm and keep the madness away. Considering her father’s directive for the day, Brienne took a deep breath and began to walk towards the city center.

_ This is not what my father had in mind _ . 


	4. The Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Brienne have a chat after the dragonpit meeting. Brienne names a Lord Commander of the Queensguard.

Walking towards the city, Sansa studied the woman at her left. Her sworn sword, friend, and now queen looked paler than usual. The events in the dragonpit had been shocking to say the least, and Sansa inwardly wondered at how many more secret Targaryens were hiding away at Winterfell.

With a deep sigh, Sansa shook her head. “I should have been more specific when I asked after your House some years ago. It seems both you and Jon withheld some rather pertinent information.”

As her eyes darted back to Brienne, Sansa observed the near imperceptible facial reactions of her sworn sword. Brienne was not a woman who offered much verbally, but she was not so stoic as she believed. While her facial muscles were well-trained at giving away nothing, Brienne’s eyes were the most expressive, and telling, that Sansa had ever seen. It was Brienne’s eyes that held the truth in all matters.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I hope you understand why I couldn’t disclose my mother’s lineage. It was as much for your protection as my own. For everyone’s protection in truth.”

Only a moon turn ago, Sansa would not have understood. She would have raged and felt betrayed. It wasn’t until she took the time to understand the lie of Jon’s lineage that Sansa came to understand why bloodlines could be so dangerous.

She considered her own lineage. It was why Tywin wed her to Tyrion. It was why House Bolton wanted her to secure the North. There were innumerable privileges afforded by her station, but also dangers. She was a pawn in a patriarchal society more than anything.

In Brienne’s reign, Sansa saw potential. The North would be safe with her sworn sword on the throne, and women would have opportunities not afforded under prior sovereigns; not even under Cersei. It was one of many lessons that Sansa learned from Cersei.  _ Power is power _ .

Looking back at Brienne, Sansa saw the unease on her friend’s face. “I understand,  _ your grace _ .” A teasing smile spread across Sansa’s face as she used Brienne’s new title.

Brienne cringed at the formal title. “Please, don’t call me that. I’m not a leader. I’m just a sword. I’ve no idea how to rule my own House let alone a kingdom.”

With a sigh, Sansa looked towards the Red Keep atop Aegon’s Hill. The damaged castle cast long shadows in the distance.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve been raised in a noble House of the Stormlands, in a family with, apparently,  _ very _ strong ties to crown. I meant what I said. You’re honorable and just, but more importantly, you’re kind. You’re not cruel like Cersei or Joffrey. You will make a fine queen and one who I am proud to bend the knee to.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as she considered something. Looking to Sansa, her eyes narrowed slightly before speaking. “I’ve seen you lead the North. You understand politics and you have a knack for reading people where I’ve been too trusting in life. I truly don’t want this crown, but it would be easier if I had you to help me. Will you be my Hand?”

Sansa faltered at the request. She was of the North and had little desire to stay in King’s Landing. The city tormented her dreams at night. Visions of Joffrey and Cersei plagued her waking thoughts. The image of her father’s head on spike was seared into her brain.

_ I’ve been running from this city and my ghosts for years. Mayhaps we can overcome our fears together. Mayhaps we can make true change. Not the false change that Daenerys spoke of. Not the madness that Cersei wreaked. Not the cruelty that Joffrey inflicted. Not the negligence that Robert wrought.  _

Taking a deep breath, Sansa glanced at Brienne. “I can’t promise that I won’t be without demons in this city. As you’ve reminded me of late, I’ve learned a lot from the worst of them. Perhaps too much.”

Sansa raised a knowing brow at Brienne before continuing. “But perhaps we can make a difference for Westeros. I can’t serve indefinitely as I need to help Jon in the North, but I can offer you some years at least. I need to speak with Jon, Arya, and Bran though. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”

Brienne’s relief was palpable. Her shoulders seemed to release an invisible weight. With a small smile, Brienne nodded in thanks. The new queen seemed to struggle with something as she glanced at Sansa.

“I actually think that you should lead the North. Perhaps Arya or Bran would be willing to take on the role as Castellan in your absence.”

Surprise lined Sansa’s face. “I’m not next in line, though Bran claims he can’t be lord of anything. You could legitimize Jon.”

“No. You are the eldest surviving child of Lord and Lady Stark. I would offer Jon seat at Dragonstone. The Crownlands are in dire need of someone to lead them; even if they are a constituent region. He’ll likely think it a punishment, but in fairness, he did kill his acknowledged queen. I think the Crowlnads would do well under his guidance. He could work with my father and Gendry to rebuild the Crownlands and Stormlands. Both areas have lost much over the years. Besides, we both know it is you who has been leading the North. Jon has merely been the face of it all. Not a particularly happy looking one either.”

A warmth spread through Sansa at Brienne’s words and acknowledgement for her efforts. With a nod, Sansa smiled at Brienne. “You’ll make a fine queen indeed. I suppose I’ll need to speak with Arya and Bran then about taking on the role of Castellan. I’m not certain Arya will be entirely helpful, but it’s worth trying.

As they continued walking towards the city, Sansa studied Brienne’s features once more. “If I may offer some early advice as your new Hand…”

At Sansa’s words, Brienne looked to her. Her eyes were filled with hope for whatever was to come. With a sympathetic smile, Sansa sighed. “Rest. You won’t do anyone any good if you don’t take care of yourself. You’ve barely slept or eaten since…  _ him _ .”

The hope in Brienne’s eyes faded as she hung her head. It hurt Sansa to see her friend in so much pain. The wounds inflicted by Jaime’s departure ran deep and would not heal easily. Sansa understood that better than Brienne realized. The emotional wounds were far worse than the physical scars.

Sansa had studied Brienne for years. Her sworn sword had preferred to serve without acknowledgement. To offer aid without recognition. Brienne did not like to make a scene, and she shirked away from judgmental eyes.

Early in their acquaintance, Sansa had judged Brienne’s life choices harshly. Like Arya, Brienne seemed eager to avoid the duties befitting a noblewoman. As much as Sansa appreciated Brienne’s protection, she often felt as though she had a much larger version of Arya shadowing her.

Then she got to know Brienne over the years. Underneath a physically imposing exterior, was a shy, innocent, gentle maiden. The gods cursed her tender soul with an imposing body. Sansa was surprised to find that they shared many of the same interests.

As young girls, they enjoyed reading tales of gallant knights rescuing the maiden fair. They both wished for marriage and children. They both wished for love. Sansa remembered the night she truly saw Brienne for who she was. Sitting in Sansa’s solar, the women sipped on tea as they sat before the fire.

_ ‘So why become a sworn sword then? If you’re the only child left in your House, why not marry and have babes?’ _

Brienne’s face had fallen. A deep sorrow clouded her eyes as she offered a weak smile in return.

_ ‘I have been considered as a match or betrothed, but then inevitably, I am seen. Not even the dark can drive away such horrors. No man will have me, but I can be useful in other ways. I can serve.’ _

Now as Sansa walked beside Brienne, she watched as her friend struggled to respond to her reference to  _ him _ . The man who, for a moment, Sansa thought had truly seen her friend. Seen her as other men never took the time to do.

As Brienne’s jaw worked slowly, she turned to Sansa. “Thank you for the advice. I do hope you can forgive me for everything. For speaking out of turn to you at Winterfell and for failing you.”

Sansa huffed a small laugh and grabbed Brienne’s forearm, bringing them both to a stop. “Just as I meant what I said at the dragonpit, I meant what I said at Winterfell. It needed saying. I’m just sorry that I heard it too late. As to failing me, you have done no such thing. You reminded me that I can trust those not bearing the name Stark. You’ve saved my life and protected me; all because of an oath to my mother.”

They neared the city center and Sansa gasped once more at the devastation. Without a word, Brienne moved to offer aid to those tending to the injured at a small inn. The thought of Brienne unguarded in the city unnerved Sansa. While the people did not yet know the role that Brienne would play, it was still unsafe to have Brienne unguarded.

Moving quickly to Brienne’s side, Sansa smiled nervously as Brienne immediately began to help the innkeeper haul medical supplies into the building. “Brienne. A word, please.”

“Just a moment. They need some help getting these things upstairs.”

With a huff, Sansa looked around. In the distance, she saw some Northern soldiers standing in a circle with Arya. Their eyes went wide in shock and it became apparent to Sansa the information that was being shared.

_ Seven hells. Word is going to get around quickly. _

Twice more, Brienne came outside to carry more boxes of supplies up a flight of stairs to where the injured were being housed. As she stood impatiently, Grey Worm and some of his men approached.

Locking eyes with Sansa, the Unsullied commander walked towards her. “Where you queen?”

Sansa cringed at the title being spoken so loudly. “Please, do not say that here. She is unguarded in the city.”

Understanding washed over Grey Worm’s features. Turning to his men, Grey Worm spoke in Valyrian. The men quickly approached and awaited his command.

“Unsullied guard her. Where is she?”

Pointing up the stairs, Sansa spoke uneasily. “She is bringing these supplies upstairs for the healers.”

Once more, Grey Worm gave instruction to the men. They each grabbed a box and moved upstairs. As they passed Brienne, her brows knitted in confusion. Uneasy commoners watched as the Unsullied began to help bring supplies inside the building.

When Brienne returned and saw the boxes moved, Sansa could see the sweat at her brow. She looked impossibly paler and Sansa was beginning to worry at Brienne’s health.

“Thank you, Grey Worm. Your men saved me a few trips.”

The Unsullied commander nodded and spoke flatly. “You wish to speak with me?”

Brienne’s eyes widened as she nodded. “Yes, well, I wished to speak with you regarding your plans moving forward. I know you mentioned a desire to return across the Narrow Sea, but if you wish to stay, I would see your men afforded housing and pay as members of the city’s defenses. I can’t imagine the Gold Cloaks have many men left, and the city needs protection. As for you, I was quite hoping you might consider becoming Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Well… Queensguard I suppose.”

Grey Worm’s brows furrowed slightly. “What is Queensguard? Like I guard Daenerys?”

Brienne huffed a small laugh and shook her head. “It’s a bit different in Westeros. Seven of the greatest knights are chosen as guard to the king or queen. One of those seven is named Lord Commander. Some of Westeros’ greatest knights have held the role.”

Brienne’s face fell slightly, and Sansa immediately understood why. Reminders of Jaime seemed to haunt her at every turn. With a slight shrug, Brienne continued.

“You’re one of the best commanders and fighters that I’ve ever seen. Your men respect you and I can’t imagine any knights of Westeros doing a finer job. It would be an honor if you stayed.”

Grey Worm considered her words. He turned and watched his men return from the second floor of the inn. As his eyes scanned the building and surrounding city, his face fell slightly.

To Sansa’s surprise, Brienne spoke once more, but in a tongue she couldn’t understand. It occurred to Sansa that Brienne spoke Valyrian. At the revelation, Sansa noticed the surprise on Grey Worm’s face too. With a deep sigh, the Unsullied commander’s brows furrowed. With a small laugh, he nodded to Brienne.

“I stay and help. I think you will make good queen. A queen who do good for people; just like Daenerys wanted to do before we cross sea. I’ll be your commander.”

Despite her reservations about the Unsullied, Sansa felt it was a sound decision. Grey Worm was a superb military leader and he seemed incredibly loyal.

It would also help maintain peace during the time it would take to ensure safe passage for the Unsullied and Dothraki across the sea. The port was in shambles and the crown’s fleet was destroyed. They had no ships to provide the men at the moment.

Brienne nodded at the man before her. “Thank you. I’ll soon need to name other knights to serve under you, but in the meantime, we can get your men somewhere to stay. My offer stands for those willing to stay. We don’t have a Master of Coin yet, but hopefully we can rectify that quickly to ensure the men are paid fairly.”

As Grey Worm’s men returned to his side, he spoke to them in Valyrian. Of the six men with him, four nodded in understanding, but two seemed irritated. Grey Worm spoke commandingly and gestured aggressively at the city, but the men shook their heads in refute.

With a final word, the two men walked off towards the city gates. Sansa’s brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the exchange.

Tugging at Brienne’s arm, Sansa’s eyes asked the question she couldn’t give voice to. Brienne shook her head slightly and muttered under her breath.

“Not all the Unsullied and Dorthaki will want to stay and help. They’re angry about what befell Daenerys and the way they were treated. They will wait outside the city for the ships that I promised. These men still here will stay. They wish to help what was destroyed.”

Sansa sighed and looked to Brienne. The response from two of Grey Worm’s men was unsurprising. They had followed their queen across the city to a land where their efforts against the dead were unappreciated. They came to a land that saw their queen’s demise, and the death of many of their brethren. Learning her lesson from Brienne, Sansa nodded and looked to Grey Worm.

“It’s understandable. I don’t imagine things have been easy for your men here. Our new queen had the right of it earlier and for that, I am sorry. We’ll ensure they are fed until the docks are repaired and the ships can be built to ensure they are returned home safely.”

Grey Worm nodded at the words, but one of his men spoke quietly at his back. After another brief exchange, Grey Worm addressed Brienne. “He say you look sick. Should rest and we help people.”

Sansa snorted and placed a warm hand on Brienne’s forearm. “I do believe you’ve made a very wise decision in naming your Lord Commander. I’ll go speak with my siblings. You rest. We can meet later to discuss everything.”

After parting ways with Brienne, Sansa sought out Arya and Bran. The pair weren’t far off from where Sansa spotted Arya earlier speaking with the Northern soldiers. It took some convincing, but Bran and Arya agreed to help.

Bran was adamant that he could only serve as Castellan for a year. His reasoning was cryptic and vague, but both sisters had come to expect such reactions from him. For her part, Arya begrudgingly agreed to act as Castellan after the first year and until Sansa returned.

_ ‘I’m no lady, but I’ll help. For House Stark. Just take care of Brienne. She seems… off…’ _

Making her way to the small inn their group was staying at, Sansa moved towards Brienne’s room. She hoped to find her friend resting, but if Brienne was still awake, Sansa would let her know the outcome of the conversation with Bran and Arya.

As Sansa’s hand came to the door, she took pause. On the other side of the door, Sansa heard Brienne crying. For weeks Brienne had held in her pain, but Sansa could see it in the knight’s eyes. When Jaime left in such a cruel way, he left Brienne’s heart in fragments. 

Lowering her hand, Sansa moved away from the door. Sansa knew better than most how taxing it was to hide emotions publicly, only to breakdown in private. For now, she would afford Brienne her solitude, but something would need to be said.

Sansa needed Brienne to know her worth.


	5. The Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei consider recent events a moon turn after the siege. The she plots.

Cersei huffed impatiently as the maester changed the dressings for Jaime’s wound. Since arriving at the outskirts of Rosby, the aged maester kept Jaime in a poppy induced sleep as his wounds were treated. A light sweat coated Jaime’s skin as infection coursed through his body.

“My lady, I’ll be back on the morrow with more herbs and a salve for his wound. Is there anything else you need?”

_ Anything else I need!? My crown you dolt. _

Huffing in annoyance, Cersei waved her hand dismissively. “No. Just keep him alive. I’ll provide more coin when he wakes.”

After escaping the Keep, the twins attempted to row to safety in the boat that Tyrion had left. The effort proved as futile as Tyrion attempting to fight the Mountain.

_ Gods, Jaime and his one, useless hand. My Jaime had two hands. My Jaime was a proud lion. My Jaime would have protected me from it all and killed the dragon queen. _

When they gave up on trying to sail to safety, the twins rowed towards land and fled by foot. It wasn’t long into their journey that Jaime began to stumble and pale at the effort. He moved slowly and half-wittedly as if in a trance.

Despite admonishing Jaime for his many failures, Cersei knew he would need a maester to survive. They found an abandoned cottage not far from the Keep at Rosby. Cersei had cursed Jaime under her breath when he collapsed to the filthy floor.

The cottage appeared abandoned some years ago. The bedroom and living area were filthy and covered in cobwebs that coated the furniture. To Cersei’s disgust, mice scurried about from their nests. She rummaged through old trunks and found a cloak to better conceal herself. With what coin they had between them, Cersei set out to find a maester.

The maester likely recognized her, but he said nothing of it. Cersei knew that anyone near the city would have seen the destruction the dragon queen wrought. She believed that her people would remain loyal and grant her aid in any form.

As Jaime lay unconscious in the bed, Cersei considered her next move. She determined that fleeing west and seeking shelter at the Rock was the best option. Another army would need to be raised; one less cowardly than the sellswords she purchased.

Jaime groaned in his sleep and broke Cersei from her thoughts. She considered the man laying on the small bed before her. There had been a time when Cersei fancied herself in love with Jaime. As the years wore on, Cersei came to find that she loved the  _ idea _ of Jaime.

Cersei loved the idea of the strong, gallant knight who fought for her in the face of death itself. He was her protector and twin; her mirror image. Jaime was what Cersei would have been if she had a cock. Even still, Cersei considered she would have made a more formidable heir than Jaime. He was too soft. Too emotional and needy.

When Jaime returned from the Riverlands years ago without his sword hand, it seemed as though he lost the best part of himself. Jaime seemed but a shadow of what he once was. Physically, any squire could thrash Cersei’s once golden brother around the yards. Emotionally, Jaime seemed to have changed even more.

They fought more than they fucked. They hated more than they loved. Cersei came to view Jaime as little more than another task taker. Like the Mountain, he would guard her while Cersei built Westeros anew. Her predecessors had been weak kings before she ascended to queen.

Once Cersei took the crown, Jaime rarely came to her bed. The handful of times he did, he seemed uninterested or distant. It was as though he was elsewhere; a stark contrast to their frantic, passionate couplings from years past. Cersei hardly cared. She only needed one thing from him; an heir.

Their first three were golden, but flawed. Like their sire, the children were weak below the surface. The next pride of lions would be stronger and without defects.

Robert wouldn’t be around to sully them, and Jaime would stand to the side as a more indomitable, paternal figure influenced them. Cersei was queen and would do what was necessary to ensure any weakness in the pride was removed.

Jaime of course could never truly be her consort. Despite Cersei’s power, Westeros would never accept it, nor did Cersei want it. Jaime would always be hers without vows. He was her twin and would do as she bid him.

Jaime would put babes in Cersei when necessary and continue to lead her armies. Cersei would need to forge a strong alliance, and that would require taking a husband.

Euron had not been ideal, but he had a fleet. Further, his cocky attitude and ruthless tactics excited Cersei. In many ways, he was like her whole Jaime, though far less golden.

Unbeknownst to Jaime, Cersei allowed Euron a quick fuck after delivering Ellaria Sand and her daughter. She gave Euron just enough of a taste to ensure he remained loyal.

Jaime grew more distant though, he began to avoid Cersei altogether. When the dragon queen attacked Jaime’s men along the Goldroad, he returned to the Keep incensed. He claimed they couldn’t win the war and would need to bend the knee or flee.

As Cersei sat in the cottage staring at Jaime’s near lifeless body, she recalled the pitiful scene at the Keep. Her once golden twin begged her to leave the crown behind. To give the dragon queen what she wanted. Cersei then did what was necessary to keep Jaime bending to her will. She lied.

She pretended at a babe and dangled the one thing before Jaime that always made him weak. It seemed implausible that Jaime would accept it. He had only bedded her once recently enough to be believable. Cersei promised to wed him and see the contrived babe named a Lannister. At the words, she saw his resolve weaken. Desperate fool that he was, Jaime relented. Then her moonblood came.

Qyburn assessed Cersei and worried that her body may be incapable of another babe. He gave her herbs and potions to encourage her womb to quicken. When the letter arrived requesting a summit under the flag of truce, she had to act quickly.

Cersei would need to see her lie become truth. In the off chance her armies failed and the dragon queen took the crown, having a babe in her womb should see her life spared. Like Jaime, Tyrion was an emotional fool.

He would likely persuade his queen to spare a pregnant woman’s life until the innocent, sweet babe arrived. Unable to entice Jaime to her bed once more, and desperate for a babe without raising Jaime’s suspicions, Cersei did what a queen must.

She drank wine and lay with Euron. It would serve to accomplish two things. First, Euron would remain loyal and collect the Golden Company when the time came. Second, her belly would swell with child as a failsafe should her forces fall.

The babe from her coupling with Euron would be imperfect, though the matter was inconsequential. When the time came, Cersei would rid herself of the broken child just as she rid Westeros of Robert’s bastards. This babe was merely a chance at survival should such a thing prove necessary.

Planning for the worst, Cersei placed loyal servants throughout the Keep. They were prepared to help her reclaim the throne if imprisoned by the dragon queen. Cersei would then be able to escape and raise new armies to take back what was hers.

Then Jaime abandoned her to aid the North and dragon queen. Recalling the scene in the dragonpit made bile rise in Cersei’s throat. The manner in which the beast grabbed Jaime’s arm and screamed at him for all to hear gnawed at Cersei. She had never felt so disgusted with Jaime as she did then.

The foolish cow had been pining after her brother for years, and to see Jaime, the once golden lion, allowing such a creature to scold him publicly was pathetic. Any remaining respect Cersei held for her brother died when he rode north.

When Jaime abandoned her, Cersei’s dreams of a new pride after Euron and his babe were no longer necessary faded. The fool that he was, Jaime would likely get himself killed in the North, and Cersei would be forced to bed another golden cousin when the time came.

When Jaime returned for Cersei during the siege, she was hardly surprised. It was as she expected. Little more than a whipped dog returning to its master.

Sitting back in the chair at the cottage, Cersei looked at the swell at her belly. Before the siege, Qyburn believed she was near four moons pregnant which would put her at five moons now. With less than two moon turns between the last time she lay with Jaime and Euron successfully putting a babe in her, Cersei knew she could continue the lie.

_ Surely my golden perfection will see this child looking more Lannister than Greyjoy. We are the stronger, purer line. _

Jaime began to moan in pain. His chiseled frame clenched as he writhed on the bed. A distant part of Cersei that once loved him reached out on instinct, but her hand stilled at the name spilling from his lips.

“Brienne.”

Rage pooled in Cersei’s core as she sat back. Her eyes narrowed and her hands balled into fists. For a moment, Cersei sat staring; hate blinding her vision. Then she stood from the chair and began to pace.

Part of her thought to kill Jaime then and there, but that was not practical. She needed him to get to safety. The West would remain loyal to them, and Jaime would lead Cersei’s new armies to reclaim the throne. She would find a way to fund more sellswords or hire a faceless man to kill the dragon queen.

In a fit of rage, Cersei threw the jug of water against the wall. When Jaime only continued to cry out for Brienne, she ran to his bedside and slapped him across the face.

“Wake up! Wake up you weak fool!” Cersei raged, but Jaime did not wake. Throughout the night as fever ravaged Jaime’s body, he continued to cry out for Brienne. Images of the cow flashed in Cersei’s mind. It was then that she plotted.

_ I’ll raise a new army and reclaim my throne. I’ll kill the dragon queen. I’ll destroy Brienne of Tarth before my brother’s eyes. _

In the days following, the maester returned with more dressings and salves for Jaime’s wound. With the fever down, the aged man weaned Jaime off the poppy.

Then Jaime’s eyes fluttered open one morning as the sun broke through the fog. His eyes blinked back the vestiges of sleep and he appraised the room. Cersei tried to compose herself. It would do no good if she spoke of his cries for Brienne, or let Jaime believe that she questioned his loyalty.

“Brother. You’ve finally rejoined the living.”

Jaime visibly flinched at her voice. His head turned to greet her cold stare. Gripping the edge of the seat she occupied, Cersei sighed and looked to her swollen belly.

“You almost left our child fatherless… twice.”

Cersei let the implication hang between them. As Jaime’s eyes drifted questioningly to the swell at her belly, he spoke slowly; his voice rough from disuse. “Where are we?”

Standing from her seat, Cersei walked to the small window. The scenery stretching out before her stunk of mediocrity and Cersei’s nose scrunched in distaste. “Rosby. While you’ve been laying there for weeks, I’ve been stuck watching you writhe about. We should be at the Keep. Not here among these people.”

Taking a deep breath, Cersei knew that she had to make a show of it. She needed to make Jaime believe the babe was his. Walking slowly towards the bed, Cersei sat on the edge. Jaime eyed her wearily; a slight edginess to his body language.

“You left us to die when you rode north. Will you abandon us again?”

Taking Jaime’s hand, Cersei placed it on her belly. Jaime’s eyes went wide, and his breath caught in his throat. She had never allowed him to touch her pregnant belly before. Shaking his head in refute, Cersei leaned down to kiss his lips and test his loyalty.

When Jaime turned his head away slightly and she caught nothing but the corner of his mouth, Cersei had her answer.

_ So it's to be death for the cow. Very well, brother. _


	6. The Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after the summit, Brienne comes to terms with the truth of her illness.

With a groan, Brienne reached for the chamber pot once more. The room stunk from her stomach’s refusal to keep even the smallest morsel of food down. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Brienne sat back on her heels.

_ Gods. What is wrong with me? _

It had been a week since she was named queen. A week of vomiting, fatigue, cramps, and dizziness. Burying her face in her hands, Brienne scolded her body for being so weak in a time of need. She imagined the physical symptoms reflected her emotional state more than illness.

In the past days, Brienne had named a few knights to the Queensguard to serve under Grey Worm, and a small council was beginning to form. Despite being surrounded by more people than ever before, Brienne had never felt so alone. 

Having survived his fight with the Mountain, the Hound begrudgingly accepted a position on the Queensguard. He had seemed wary at first, but upon realization that Sansa would be Hand, Sandor agreed to stay. It was a curious thing to see, but the Hound had a soft spot for the Stark sisters.

_ ‘I didn’t protect them from that cunt Joffrey. I should have done more. I’ll do more now.’ _

In addition to the Hound, Brienne had named Ser Balon and Ser Boros. They had served under King Robert, King Joffrey, and King Tommen before Cersei dissolved the Queensguard. They were capable knights and good men.

Brienne had decided upon another knight to appoint, but first, he had to be knighted. It was for that reason that Brienne dragged herself from bed.

_ Just keep it together a while longer. No more vomiting. No more fainting. _

Chewing on some mint leaves, Brienne prepared to move towards the throne room or rather, what little remained of it. Much of the Keep was in shambles, but it was as livable as much of the city. With Grey Worm and Ser Boros at her back, Brienne made her way down the hall that would bring her to the hall.

Stepping inside, Brienne noted the presence of those requested; several soldiers from the North, the Queensguard, House Stark, Pod, and Tyrion. As much as Brienne still had little desire to speak with Tyrion, she wouldn’t deprive him or Pod of this moment. Pod had spoken fondly of Tyrion over the years, and it was evident they were close. It was for that reason that Brienne included Tyrion today.

At Brienne’s entry, those assembled bowed respectfully. It was a response that Brienne imagined she would never feel accustomed to nor care for. Leading was not something she wished for in life, yet everyday would be a reminder that she must.

As she reached the front of the room, Brienne felt her nerves kick in. No one outwardly questioned her knighthood, but Brienne secretly wondered if they did. She had come to question it herself. A small part of her wondered if Jaime only did it because of Tormund’s comment and a need to outshine the Wildling.

While Jaime clearly didn’t love Brienne, he was a jealous man. He was a man who endured years of watching the woman he loved lay with another. Further, it was no secret that when Robert passed, the queen was busy forging alliances by any means necessary.

Brienne reminded herself that today she would knight Pod, not as a knight herself, but as a queen. She prayed to the Seven that no one would question Pod’s knighting because of her.

It was one of the things that hurt the most. The thought that something she aspired to be, had been afforded to her by a man who might have only done so to ward off perceived competition.

With a warm smile, Brienne spoke at the base of the stairs leading up to where the throne once stood.

“Podrick Payne, please step forward.”

At her words, Pod’s brows furrowed. The young man stepped towards her with a question in his eyes. Brienne’s response was to unsheathe her sword.

“Kneel, Podrick.”

As realization dawned, Pod’s eyes misted, and he quickly fell to one knee. “I’ve never met a more remarkable squire. Podrick Payne survived death itself and protected those around him when many brave, seasoned soldiers fell.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne brought Oathkeeper to Pod’s shoulder. Repeating the words that Jaime spoke just moons ago, Brienne summoned as much confidence as she could.

“In the name of the father, I charge you to be brave.  In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Podrick of House Payne, a knight of the  _ Eight _ Kingdoms.”

Pod stood and wrapped his arms firmly around Brienne. As those assembled cheered loudly, Brienne took a moment to consider the young man pressed close to her. They had been through much together and Brienne hoped that he would stay by her side still.

As Pod stepped back, Brienne smiled warmly. “I was quite hoping,  _ Ser Pod _ , that you would join my Queensguard.”

Pod’s jaw gaped, and fresh tears pooled in his eyes. With a firm nod, Pod stood tall. “It would be an honor, ser.”

_ Ser. _

At the title, Brienne’s eyes darted to those among them to see if they would laugh at her most treasured title. Seeing no mockery in their eyes, she smiled at Pod.

“Thank you. You’ll make an incredible Queensguard as you’ve made an incredible friend and squire. Now we just have two more knights to name.”

The group approached Pod to congratulate him. A wide smile stretched across the new knight’s face as he accepted their praise, but it was when Pod saw Tyrion that he nearly broke down once more. Pod kneeled to embrace his friend, and Brienne heard Tyrion’s whispered words.

“Well deserved my friend. Protect your lady knight and queen well.”

Pod chuckled. “She protected me for years. It’s the least I can do, but in truth, she could still kill me if she wanted.”

At Sansa’s approach, Brienne noted the hesitation in her eyes. “There are some things we should discuss. Shall we step into the study?”

Moving into the study, Sansa closed the door and ran a hand over her face. The young woman’s fatigue was evident, and Brienne felt a pang of guilt for not doing more to help at the Keep of late. Brienne had been spending most of her time in the city helping the people. It broke Brienne’s heart to see how many innocent lives were impacted by the warring queens.

The most saddening consequence of the war was the sight of the newly orphaned children. Brienne worked closely with an orphanage in town to ensure the children were well cared for. Every day, she had the Keep send down food to feed the children, injured and displaced.

Unfortunately, Sansa had been left to deal with much of the Keep’s issues. Brienne had already made two appointments to the small council. Ser Davos was Master of Ships. Arya was Master of Whisperers.

While Bran would have been an ideal appointment as Master of Whisperers, he would act as Castellan for a year in the North. He offered to send Arya updates on relevant matters, and the young Stark believed she could play a key role in the city.

Arya had a knack for moving unseen through areas. With her faces, Arya could slip in among groups and acquire information that might otherwise not be shared. Between her efforts in the city and Bran providing insights from around Westeros, Brienne felt she would have ample information to consider proper action and plans for defense.

In truth, Brienne thought there was another reason that Arya willingly remained behind rather than set sail to explore west of Westeros. Gendry.

With the young lord to be legitimized in a moon turn, Arya would see Gendry more frequently. Storm’s End was not a far journey from the Red Keep, and Brienne imagined the pair would make an effort to stay close.

Taking a seat, Brienne awaited Sansa’s thoughts. The young woman put her elbows on the table and met Brienne’s eyes.

“I’ve gone over the ledgers and the crown has no coin. Cersei used it all to fund the Golden Company. The Iron Bank is looking to collect on their outstanding debt with the crown, and now that you’ve been named queen, they’ve sent their first missive seeking repayment.”

Brienne sagged in her seat. They desperately needed a Master of Coin as this would be far too much for Sansa to take on. Continuing from across the table, Sansa offered a suggestion.

“We should impose heavier taxes against the West. The crown already depleted funds from Highgarden which was the second wealthiest holding after the Rock. I believe we should give temporary guardianship of the West to Tyrion. That will ensure the West pays their debts. We’ll need to find someone long-term who can rule there.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the suggestion. Tyrion was the only living child of Tywin Lannister. It seemed there was no one else to claim Casterly Rock.

“Why wouldn’t Tyrion be lord? If you think we can trust him, he has claim.”

With a heavy sigh, Sansa shook her head. “House Lannister is rather extensive. I believe his aunt is acting Castellan now. They won’t accept Tyrion; not after he killed his own father. Their House suffered greatly for it. They would be more likely to work with us and pay their debt if we only name him as guardian rather than lord.”

The approach was logical, and Brienne consented. They would speak with Tyrion after taking lunch. In the meantime, Brienne wished to return to the city to help the people rebuild. Standing from her chair, Brienne’s world went black. She clutched at the table for purchase and closed her eyes as the dizziness washed over her.

A warm hand guided her back into the chair. “Brienne. Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Sansa’s voice guided Brienne back to awareness. As everything slowly came into focus, Brienne met the panicked eyes of her friend.

“This has gone on for too long, Brienne. We need to have the maester treat you.”

Despite her protests, Brienne found herself walking slowly to the maester’s office. She was flanked by Pod and Grey Worm; the former having happily relieved Ser Boros of his duty for the day. At their approach, the maester cleared his exam table and instructed Brienne to sit.

The maester was an older man who knew Brienne quite well. He had served on Tarth up until a few days prior. When Brienne sent her father word of what happened at the summit, Selwyn sent his maester to help the people of King’s Landing. Until the Citadel assigned someone new to the Red Keep, the older man was also caring for the castle occupants.

“You grace, if I may.” Maester Tyton directed Brienne to lay down as the Queensguard left the room.

Sansa relayed her observations as the maester looked Brienne over. With an appraising eye, he looked to Brienne curiously.

“Any other symptoms?”

Brienne admitted to the vomiting and dizziness. The fatigue and nausea. As the man listened to Brienne rattle off the ailments, he smirked slightly.

“And when did you last bleed, your grace?”

Time seemed to stop around Brienne. A sudden stillness settled over the room as she lay staring at the ceiling. Calculating backwards, Brienne felt dread pool in her gut. She last bled before the dead. Rather than answer the question, Brienne felt tears pool in her eyes as she spoke quietly.

“Please don’t tell my father.”

The maester sighed and grabbed her arm. “Brienne. Always such a willful child. I won’t tell him of this, but how many moons?”

“I… I haven’t bled in three moons. I… I’ve been so distracted. I didn’t think… my moonblood is always so erratic.”

Brienne willed herself to look towards the maester and Sansa. Standing in shock just behind the maester, Sansa covered her mouth as it fell open slightly. For all the years that Brienne knew Maester Tyton, he seemed unphased.

Squeezing her arm once more, he smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure he’s a wonderful man.”

At the words, Brienne bolted upright. She needed to get away as swirling emotions threatened to drown her. She felt shame, hurt, anger, and despair.

Moving quickly from the room, Brienne walked past Pod and Grey Worm. They hurried after her and called out. All Brienne wanted to do was lock herself in her room and cry. Her breathing became labored as her mind raced. The voices at her back faded away; replaced only by the thrumming in her ears. Then everything went black again.

When Brienne came to, she was in her bed at the Keep. Sansa sat at Brienne’s bedside knitting while Pod slept in the chair next to Sansa. The room spun slightly as Brienne reached for her head. Her movement caught the attention of Sansa who promptly swatted Pod awake.

“Brienne! Thank the gods. How are you feeling?”

Swallowing thickly, Brienne closed her eyes before finding her words.

“Dizzy and like a fool.”

Pushing a stray lock of hair from Brienne’s face, a sympathetic smile stretched across Sansa’s face.

“The maester said your mom had many dizzy spells when pregnant with you and your siblings. He is going to brew some special tea that should help with it, but you need to take better care of yourself and that babe.”

_ Now I can be a pregnant whore. I gave my maidenhead to a man who sought only a distraction for his broken heart. Now I’m to have his babe. How embarrassing. What will everyone think? What will my father think? _

Brienne cringed at the words. “I can’t believe this is happening. No one else knows, do they?”

Shaking her head, Sansa sighed. “Only Pod and Grey Worm. We’ll not tell anyone, but it will become obvious soon enough.”

True to Sansa’s words, Maester Tyton soon arrived with tea. Ser Balon had relieved Grey Worm of his duties and the Hound came to relieve Pod, but Pod refused to leave Brienne’s side. They spoke of more matters requiring Brienne’s attention. Sansa seemed relieved that Brienne was bedridden rather than in the city tending to the people.

When Brienne could take it no longer, they made their way to the hall for food. Brienne couldn’t keep down much, but the tea seemed to help some, and Brienne was able to eat bread and fruit. The hour soon came to meet with Tyrion.

The walk to the throne room seemed to stretch on forever. Sansa, Arya, and the Queensguard would join her in the throne room to announce to Tyrion what was to become of him.

Stepping into the room, Brienne saw Tyrion sitting solemnly at the base of the stairs. She had to continuously remind herself that Tyrion was suffering far more than she was. He had lost both siblings in the siege, and while Cersei didn’t love Tyrion, Jaime certainly did.

_ I suppose I have less right to my anger when I wasn’t even loved by Jaime. It’s Tyrion who has lost his family. He lost someone who loved him. _

Struggling to make eye contact with Tyrion, Brienne took a steadying breath.

“Your sister left the crown in a poor state financially. There is no coin, but a great debt owed to the Iron Bank. As punishment for the crimes of House Lannister, the West will be tasked with paying off her debt. A raised tax will be imposed on the kingdom until the debt is paid in full.”

Tyrion nodded in understanding as he listened to Brienne intently.

“As for you, you will be awarded temporary guardianship of the West. It is my understanding that given your crimes against your House, they are unlikely to accept you as Lord, but I will ensure they respect you as guardian until we can think of a more permanent solution. We will need your help ensuring the debt is paid and they do not revolt over the decree.”

A slight grimace tugged at Tyrion’s features, but he nodded in understanding. “I’ll write to my aunt. I think the penalty is fair, though I regret to inform you that they will be far more likely to accept a financial penalty than to accept me.”

Brienne shrugged slightly. “It would seem they have little option. I will ensure you are well supported by the crown. I imagine you’ll wish to move west soon. We’ll ensure you have ample supplies and protection.”

Turning to leave, Tyrion called out. “Your grace, if I may.”

At the words, Brienne paused. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before summoning the strength to look at Tyrion. As Brienne spun to face him, she noted the unease on his face.

“I was hoping that I might speak with you privately.”

Tyrion’s eyes darted to those amassed in the room. While it was not an unfair request, Brienne had no desire to honor it. From what little she knew of Tyrion, he did far more harm than good, and Brienne couldn’t keep up with his wit.

He let his brother go free to awaiting death. He embarrassed Brienne during the feast. Brienne believed it was that embarrassment that made Jaime take pity on her take that night.

_ Lots of wine and pity landed Jaime at my door. Were it not for Tyrion, Jaime wouldn’t have debased himself by laying with me. I wouldn’t find myself a pregnant whore for all of Westeros to mock. An unlovable beast playing at queen. _

“What do you wish to speak of? I’m quite tired, Lord Tyrion. I’m certain you’ve noticed, but the city is recovering from mad queens who nearly destroyed everything and everyone.”

Tyrion took a steadying breath. His eyes filled with sorrow as he looked to Brienne. When he spoke, his voice sounded pained. “I… It’s about Jaime.”

“No. Please, I don’t want to hear it.” Brienne’s fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, but Tyrion did not stop.

“He was happy at Winterfell. I saw it. I just…” Tyrion took a step towards Brienne. His eyes glistened with despair as he tried to offer some solace that Brienne had little desire to hear.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Lord Tyrion. Truly. When we recover the bodies of your siblings, we’ll have them sent west. You have my word.”

Thinking the matter done, Brienne turned to leave once more. Before she could take a step, Tyrion called out. “You’ll never find their bodies.”

Something in his tone made Brienne take pause. Glancing to Sansa, Brienne saw the young woman’s brows knit in confusion as she studied Tyrion. Afraid of what was to come, Brienne turned back to him.

“Why not?”

Tyrion glanced once more at those assembled in the room. He took a deep breath and sighed before continuing.

“They escaped. I gave them a rowboat to flee, and when I walked to the tunnel entrance where it would have been awaiting them, the boat was gone. Their bodies are not below the Keep. I looked.”

It felt like a sword to the heart. Jaime was alive and with his true love. His true love who would likely stop at nothing to reclaim her crown.

Brienne pictured standing across the battlefield from Jaime once more; her belly round with his babe. She imagined it then. Jaime running her through with his sword  _ for Cersei _ .

Brienne’s breathing began to labor, and the floor shifted below her feet. A loud ringing in her ears diluted the voices of those around her. Distantly, she heard Sansa call out to her.

“Brienne! Breathe.” Movement at Brienne’s side alerted her to the presence of others. “Pod, get the maester! Tell him it's happened again.”

Arms wrapped around Brienne’s waist and arms. Her knees began to buckle as the room spun. Brienne could feel the blood draining from her head as Jaime’s words repeated in her mind.

_ For Cersei. Always for Cersei.  _


	7. The Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is recovering and realizing the depths of Cersei's madness.

_ “Jaime. The fire. It’s your turn.” _

_ Jaime pulled Brienne close and nuzzled into her neck. The chilly air above the covers nipped at his exposed skin, as he grumbled against Brienne’s back. _

_ “It’s too cold to tend the fire.” _

_ With an exasperated huff, Brienne’s elbow met his ribs. The blow was pulled, and Jaime smiled inwardly knowing she meant him no harm. Tugging her closer, Jaime reached for the swell of her breast as his left leg moved over hers. His cock strained with want at her backside. With a suggestive kiss to Brienne’s neck, Jaime smiled into her skin. _

_ “There are better ways to warm up.” _

_ Brienne chuckled lightly, but she did not protest when Jaime rolled her to her back and moved between her legs. Their lips came together passionately as hands began to wander the other’s body. The feeling of Brienne’s skin against his was incredible, and Jaime never wanted to leave the bed. _

_ Jaime cared little if the queens to the south engulfed each other in flame. All that Jaime wanted was to be left alone in bed with Brienne. _

_ As his cock pushed deep into Brienne, Jaime felt home. He was with the woman he loved in the warmth of their bed. Neither the chill nor the fighting to the south could drive him out. _

The door burst open and woke Jaime from his dream. An infuriated Cersei stomped inside and cursed the gods as she threw her cloak to the floor. She was drenched in water; an indignant scowl on her face. Quickly looking to the window, Jaime noted the heavy downpour outside.

It wasn’t until Cersei huffed a small laugh that Jaime realized his hand was down his breeches; his cock straining for release. The sound of Cersei’s skirts dragging across the floor caught his attention. Jaime pulled his hand from his breeches and watched her warily. As her hips swayed from side to side, a smile spread across Cersei’s face.

“Dreaming of me, brother? Mayhap you were merely awaiting my return to find release.”

_ Seven hells. _

It was the one thing that Jaime hadn’t considered since helping Cersei flee the Keep. She assumed that he came to rescue her; likely on account of love. When she tried to kiss him the other day, Jaime felt repulsed. It would do no good to rebuke her entirely, so rather than tell Cersei that he was no longer hers, Jaime avoided the topic.

Cersei grabbed at her skirts and hiked them up to her knees. The wet fabric clung tightly to her body and the swell at her belly. Cersei’s breasts were swollen and spilling over the edges of the dress as they often did when she was with child. The clothing was quickly becoming too small for her changing figure.

Jaime felt frozen in place. His cock was still high on the memory of Brienne despite Jaime’s brain beginning to panic. As Cersei reached the bed, she crawled up his body and straddled him. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips as she rolled her hips over him.

In years past, Jaime would have shoved Cersei’s smallclothes to the side and taken her. He would have sought quick release to satisfy his lust as they often did in youth. Now, Jaime felt nothing for the woman astride him. Jaime was never one to seek release with a whore. That was all Cersei would be to him now if he took her.

Cersei’s movements above him came to an abrupt halt. Shock spread across her face at the realization that Jaime was neither responding in kind nor able to fuck. His cock had softened. Moving Cersei off him, Jaime stood with a grunt of pain. His healing stitches and broken ribs were still tender. The pain in his head still lingered at sudden movements.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Did your balls freeze off in the North?” Cersei’s tone dripped with venom as Jaime threw on his tunic and tucked it into his breeches.

Every part of Jaime wanted to tell Cersei the truth of his feelings for Brienne. To be rid of her once and for all. Annoyingly, Jaime couldn’t. He knew that if he was truthful with Cersei, she would flee or do something drastic. It was important that he find a way to keep her hidden away until the babe came.

“I’m not in the mood, Cers. Leave me be.”

The bed creaked as Cersei moved off it and walked towards him. “It certainly looked as though you were in the mood. It’s that cow, isn’t it!?”

At the nasty reference to Brienne, Jaime stiffened. No matter what, he couldn’t allow Cersei to find out the depth of his feelings for Brienne. He could never allow Cersei to find out that he lay with Brienne for a moon turn. It was a moon turn that Jaime only dreamed could be real and permanent.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime steeled himself as he turned to face Cersei. “What are you on about? I’m not the one who strayed.” Jaime’s eyes darted to the swell at Cersei’s belly. “The babe must be Euron’s. You looked rather  _ not _ with child when I moved north.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide. Without warning, her hand flew across Jaime’s face. “How dare you! After all we did for years to ensure that I never carried Robert’s children. They’ve all been yours. You think I would have a babe with that would be pirate!? It’s you who has strayed.”

A bitter laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. He struggled to believe the child was his, but knowing it wasn’t impossible made him take pause. It was true that Cersei never wished to grow round with a child not pure of Lannister blood. They went to extreme lengths to ensure that Robert’s seed never took root in her womb.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime bit his lip and reminded himself to keep Cersei calm and cooperative. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t have a Greyjoy bastard when you wouldn’t have a king’s legitimate heir.”

Seemingly satisfied by the words, Cersei’s face relaxed. Her head cocked to the side as her eyes narrowed in consideration. “And you? Did you stick your cock in some northern whore?”

It took everything in Jaime not to lash out. With his fist balled at his side, Jaime gave a warning glare. “Just as you wouldn’t seek to have another man’s babe in your womb, I don’t seek to put my cock in whores.”

_ Not a lie. Brienne is no whore. _

Cersei’s eyes narrowed in consideration. Her head cocked slightly before she stepped away and moved to the window.

“I returned to the village to send missives to our vassals. We’ll move out from here shortly and call the banners; whatever remains. Once at the Rock, we’ll fund a new army or hire faceless men to help us reclaim what they stole from us.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as Cersei spoke. The signs of madness had been there for years. Her actions worsened by the year. When she used wildfire on the Sept, Jaime knew she was lost to him. It mattered little though, for his heart had left some time before that.

_ She’s more than mad. Aerys was sane by comparison. Call the banners? Another army? Faceless men? _

“What are you on about? The war is over. You lost. The crown belongs to a woman with a dragon!”

Cersei turned on her heel to face him. A smug smile curled at the corners of her lips.

“The war is not over, brother. It’s only getting started.”

It was the first time in their lives that Cersei truly looked ugly to him. Jaime wondered at how he failed to see her imperfections before. With disbelieving eyes, Jaime followed her as she moved slowly to the bed.

“A Targaryen sits on the throne, but  _ not _ the dragon queen.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed in question. Before he could speak, Cersei continued. “The villagers were quite excited by the turn of events. It would seem some northern bastard killed the dragon queen after she moved to claim her throne. The dragon carried her body off as though a vulture might make off with a rotting carcass.”

Sitting on the bed, Cersei smiled widely. Something crazed and deadly sparkled in her eyes that sent a chill down Jaime’s spine.

“Brienne Tarth sits on the Iron Throne. The great-granddaughter of King Aegon V. The villagers say she is Prince Duncan and Jenny Targaryen’s granddaughter.”

Jaime’s body swayed in shock. It seemed unfathomable, and Jaime wondered if Cersei heard it correctly. Unaware of Jaime’s confusion, Cersei continued her mad tirade.

“They’ve put that fucking cow on the throne. We will win this war yet. She is a weak, pathetic fool. Unfit to rule. And you, dear brother, will be what breaks her. She trusts you and you’ll be her undoing.”

At the words, Jaime’s head snapped to Cersei in shock. He studied her as though catching a glimpse into the Seven Hells themselves. The look in her eye made wildfire seem pleasant.

Cersei stood from the bed and moved slowly towards Jaime. Her fingers reached for his cheek as she smiled widely.

“We’re going home. We’re going to amass a new army; stronger than ever before. You’re going to seek out the beast and pretend at providing aid. Tell her that a rebellion is brewing, but give her false detail. Then you’ll kill her. Their armies are likely depleted and won’t stand a chance. We’ll lay siege to what remains, and I’ll reclaim the throne.”

Jaime felt himself pale. His mind began to swirl with conflicting thoughts. Part of Jaime thought to turn her in immediately and beg Brienne’s mercy. Brienne was not one to kill innocents which the babe was.

Another part of Jaime thought to tie Cersei up, hide her away, and wait until the babe was born so that he could kill her. Anything to keep Brienne safe.

Looking into Cersei’s eyes, Jaime knew that there was no option. He had to turn Cersei in and pray for mercy. He couldn’t risk another day of Cersei being free to roam Westeros and amass any threat to move against Brienne. Summoning every ounce of strength he could, Jaime nodded at Cersei in agreement.

“When I’m well enough to travel, we’ll move west. There should be enough coin at the Rock to hire another army from across the Narrow Sea. I don’t wish to harm Brienne. She saved my life, but… for our babe, we’ll take back the throne.”

A sly smile spread across Cersei’s face. “On the morrow, we’ll have that useless gold brick of yours melted down. That should fetch us supplies to move west, and some men from across the Narrow Sea.”

Cersei continued to rant and plot for hours on end. That night, Jaime found little sleep. His mind ran wild at the information Cersei shared.

_ Is Brienne truly a Targaryen? Why wouldn’t she tell me of her lineage? How is she feeling? She hardly felt comfortable leading the left flank let alone leading Westeros. Is she well? Is she happy? _

When Jaime did find sleep, it was fitful. Visions of Cersei killing Brienne tormented his dreams. Unable to find peaceful rest, Jaime took out a parchment and quill that Cersei procured from the village some days prior.

_ Tyrion, _

_ I pray this missive finds you well. After ringing the bells and having our men escort as many innocents from the city as possible, I found Cersei and brought her to the rowboat. You may find this difficult to believe, but I couldn’t row very far given my one hand. I was also semiconscious as the Mountain saw fit to use me as a practice dummy. _

_ Cersei is six moons with child. I had hoped to keep her hidden until the babe arrives and then turn her in, but she is truly mad Tyrion. I fear she’ll try something foolish and I can’t risk Brienne’s life. We’re at a cottage just outside Rosby. _

_ I’ll do everything that I can to keep her here until you can send men to collect her, but I beg you, please spare the babe. The crown can have my head and Cersei’s, but let her deliver the babe first. _

_ I didn’t go into the Keep to save Cersei. I went there to kill her. It wasn’t until I saw her pregnant that I realized I couldn’t. I’m sorry that I let you think otherwise, but I thought it for the best. _

_ Jaime _

Before Cersei awoke, Jaime dressed to head into the village. Moving towards the bed, Jaime shook Cersei’s shoulder lightly.

“Cers. I’m going into the village to sell the hand. I’ll be back soon.”

Cersei swatted him away and muttered obscenities under her breath. “Get enough coin for it!”

Stepping outside for the first time in weeks, Jaime appraised the area. It was a cool morning and a heavy dew coated the grass. Jaime placed the golden hand in a satchel so as not to rouse suspicion of his identity. He thanked the gods that his once golden hair was still dark from lack of sunlight for moons on end.

His beard was thick enough to hide his face and Jaime thought he could easily pass for a wandering soldier crippled by war. Moving into the village, Jaime held the missive in hand that he wrote by moonlight. Knowing Tyrion, he was likely still in the capital. If he wasn’t, it was likely the missive would be taken to Brienne.

Finding a shop to send the missive, Jaime used Cersei’s ring bearing the seal of their House. Anyone in the Keep would think the missive from Genna at the Rock. After sending the letter, Jaime then procured food to hold them over until the soldiers arrived. Given the distance to the capital, Jaime believed the Gold Cloaks would be upon them within a day.

Some time later, Jaime returned to the cottage to find Cersei awake and annoyed.

“What took you so long!?”

With a slight shrug, Jaime threw the golden hand on the table. “The only person willing to buy it offered a pathetic sum of coin. We can melt it down at the Rock and receive fair value. I have enough coin to get us horses for the journey west.”

Cersei grumbled at the thought, but she relented quickly enough. Her eyes appraised Jaime as he offered her bread and cheese.

“When can we leave?”

With a slight shrug, Jaime met Cersei’s eyes. “We’ll leave within days. Mayhaps on the morrow. I’m a bit lightheaded from the movement today.”

Devouring the offered food, Cersei huffed in annoyance but spoke no more. Sitting down in a chair by the window, Jaime stared outside. His thoughts drifted to Brienne as a pair of sapphire eyes danced in his mind.

_ I’m sorry, Brienne. Please forgive me for this. _


	8. The Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two letters from House Lannister arrive.

A light knock came at Brienne’s chamber door. Her head was still spinning from earlier, and she had little desire to speak with whoever was on the opposite side. Taking a deep breath, Brienne moved to the door and cringed inwardly at the face greeting her.

“Your grace, if I may.” Tyrion’s eyes were a sea of emotions that Brienne could not give name to.

It had been days since she fainted after hearing the truth of Jaime’s and Cersei’s escape; the confirmation that Jaime indeed fled south to save Cersei. The reality that the Lannister twins would likely stop at nothing to reclaim the throne hurt Brienne deeply.

When she fainted, Tyrion had pieced it together. Whatever words he overheard from the maester combined with Brienne’s physical state gave the secret away. He knew she was pregnant.

After that day, Tyrion tried to seek her out for a private audience, but Brienne had little desire. She didn’t need to hear his contrived words seeking to placate a broken heart. Brienne knew how little she meant to Jaime. Hearing Tyrion, who mocked her at the feast, try to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart would do little to heal her wounds.

Looking at him now and knowing what she did, Brienne relented. “What is it?”

Tyrion seemed shocked at her willingness to speak with him. As Brienne stood to the side to allow him entry, Tyrion nodded and moved into the room. From the doorway, Pod raised a brow in question. He and the Hound were on guard and both knew that Brienne had as much desire to speak with Tyrion as she had desire to be called ‘queen’.

Shutting the door behind Tyrion, Brienne crossed her arms and waited for him to speak. The younger Lannister briefly appraised the room before turning to meet her eyes.

“Let me apologize once more at my lack of disclosure for my siblings’ whereabouts. I hate Cersei with every part of my being, but Jaime saved me in more ways than I care to recall. I would do anything for him, and I truly believed he wished to be with her. The thought of losing him was unbearable, and so I arranged for the boat. I thought it a fool’s errand, but I had to try and see Jaime to safety.”

Taking pause, Tyrion reached into his jerkin and produced a missive. The seal was broken as Tyrion held it firm in his hand.

“I misread him. There was a time when I thought myself clever. I’ve failed at every turn of late, and it seems that now, I can’t read my own brother. He didn’t return to save Cersei. He returned to ensure she died. I’m sorry. This arrived for me not even an hour ago.”

Tyrion handed Brienne the missive. Scanning it quickly, she shrugged and handed it back. “I’m well aware of their location. The men were sent out to collect your siblings just after council this morning.”

At Brienne’s words, Tyrion’s eyes went wide. “How did you…”

Brienne cocked a brow and interrupted Tyrion. “Bran.”

Brienne thought back on the council meeting that she left not long ago. Those already named to the council were assembled and discussing the most pressing matters concerning the Seven Kingdoms and King’s Landing.

Brienne sat at the table surrounded by Sansa, Arya, Grey Worm, Davos, and Maester Tyton. Before the council concluded, a knock at the door brought a halt to the conversation. Ser Balon announced Bran’s request to speak with the council, and with their agreement, he wheeled the young man inside.

With little preamble, Bran spoke in his usual monotone voice. “First, you need to understand what happened the day of the siege. Ser Jaime entered the city to ring the bells and signal the city’s surrender as Tyrion requested. Rather than move immediately towards the Keep, he rallied his men to get civilians out. As ended up happening, he feared the wildfire caches would catch in the dragon queen’s attack. His efforts are partly why so many lives were spared that day.”

The words washed over Brienne and she closed her eyes. It was not surprising that even when he likely despaired for his love’s safety, Jaime took the time to see the innocent to safety. Those around the table sat in stunned silence as Bran continued.“He entered the Keep and was quickly engaged by the Mountain. Ser Gregor nearly killed him in the process, but the Hound stepped in before the killing blow could be delivered.”

Brienne cringed at the thought. The Mountain was a true monster of a man. It was evident to Brienne that Jaime planned to save Cersei or die with her; their escape evidence of as much. Bran’s voice continued speaking while Brienne stuffed down the hurt once more.

“When he eventually made his way to Cersei, he took her to the awaiting boat that Tyrion had left for them. They didn’t get far on account of his wounds and her being pregnant.”

At the information, Brienne felt slapped. A sea of conflicting emotions swirled within as Brienne let the information wash over her. It was anger and betrayal that won out.

_ He never said that his sister was pregnant. How could he so easily take my maidenhead without mentioning that he left behind his pregnant sister in the capital. Do I truly mean so little to him that he couldn’t even be honest? _

Bran spoke to Jaime’s physical condition and the maester that treated his wounds. As he concluded, the council looked to Brienne. Most of those present knew the nature of her relationship with Jaime, and it made Brienne feel even more foolish.

“We’ll send soldiers to collect them outside Rosby. We should send at least a dozen to ensure Ser Jaime doesn’t try to fight them off.”

Sansa’s brows furrowed at the words. “Fight them off? Brienne, did you hear Bran? He is injured and she is with child.”

“A child he clearly means to protect. A woman he would do anything for. He told me as much himself. Wounded animals are often the most dangerous. ”

Bran spoke once more; his voice barely a whisper. “He sent a missive to Tyrion sharing their location. He seeks mercy for the babe. He claims to have gone to kill Cersei; not save her.”

While others seemed shocked by the words, Brienne only shook her head and huffed in annoyance. “I’m not Cersei. I would not kill a pregnant woman. The babe is innocent in this, but words on paper mean nothing. He certainly did not go into the Keep to kill her.”

Standing from her seat, Brienne spoke curtly towards Bran. “If that is all, Lord Bran.”

“It is not.” The young man’s blank stare unnerved Brienne There was a slight warning in his tone. “I will be departing for the North this day, but I would offer you a warning. I’ve had a vision that is proving difficult to interpret, but worrisome in its nature. I see a lion with a dagger, a griffin with an oar, and a kraken with fire. Their eyes are bleeding with rage as they look upon our queen.”

_ So now we don’t even get warning of actual people. I get animals with weapons and blood. Lovely. _

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Brienne took a deep breath before leaving the council without another word. Bran’s cryptic messages had always been vexing, but at least in the past he specifically named people he saw in his visions.

Now as Brienne stood before Tyrion, she watched as the younger Lannister struggled to form his next question.

“What will you do with my siblings?”

There was a fear in his eyes that reminded Brienne just how little Tyrion knew her. Aside from their brief interactions at Winterfell, the pair had only seen one another at informal distances during Brienne’s stay in King’s Landing some years ago and in the dragonpit.

“I will not kill an innocent babe. Cersei will be afforded life until the babe is delivered. Then she will face trial. I’ve no reason to hold your brother. He gave aid to the innocent; both living and yet born.”

At Brienne’s words, Tyrion’s brows furrowed as he eyed Brienne suspiciously. “You won’t punish him?”

The question startled Brienne. “What would I punish him for?”

“For abandoning you.”

_ Does he truly think me no different than his House? No different than his sister? _

“Wearing the crown does not give me the right to punish someone for personal grievances. Besides, Ser Jaime made me no promises. He did not speak false words of love.”

Swallowing down the lump forming in her throat, Brienne looked away from Tyrion. “I’m aware of what I was to him and yet I allowed it. There is nothing to punish him for. It was my choice.”

“Did you not read the letter? He came here to kill Cersei.”

With a bitter laugh, Brienne glanced back at Tyrion. The younger man stood rooted in place; his brow raised in challenge.

“I believe that he came here to kill your sister as much as I believe he could ever love someone such as me. Regardless of his intent, he fled with her. It is clear from his letter that he is aware of who sits on the throne. He likely thinks my position affords him and Cersei a chance at life with their babe. I can guarantee life for him and the babe. They’ve done no wrong. As for Cersei, a trial will determine her fate. I can’t imagine jurors finding her innocent after all she has done.”

Taking a cautious step towards Brienne, Tyrion struggled for words. His expression was one of bewilderment.

“Brienne… I’m very sorry for the way I spoke to you at Winterfell, but you must know how my brother feels for you. I haven’t seen my brother look at anyone the way he looks at you; not even Cersei.”

Closing her eyes, Brienne took a steadying breath to calm herself.

“Of course not. Aside from me, I imagine you brother has never laid eyes on another quite so unfortunate looking. I’ve received many stares in my life, and I’m not blind to it. Uglier in daylight. Great beast. Those were his words to me; the only thoughts on my appearance he has ever shared. As I said, he never once lied to me at Winterfell. No false compliments. No empty promises. No contrived love. I was a warm bed for him when he was angry at Cersei. If we’re quite done here, I don’t care to speak on this anymore.”

For what seemed the first time in their acquaintance, Brienne watched a speechless Tyrion gape at her. Brienne walked to the door and opened it; an unspoken request for Tyrion to leave. The younger Lannister walked to the door and took pause.

Shaking his head, Tyrion met Brienne’s eyes. “Aside from being with you at Winterfell, the last time I saw him smile, truly smile, he was but a boy at the Rock. He was happy with you.”

Brienne remembered her childhood then. She remembered the mockery and judgmental stares. The broken betrothals and awkwardness of court. The ball. More than anything, Brienne remembered the ball.

Her father had looked so proud and pleased to see the boys dancing with her. It made Brienne smile. It was the only genuine smile she recalled from her childhood. Every other smile was forced. A way to play at happiness so as not to dismay her father or make him feel disappointed in only having her.

She had perfected the false smile over the years. When someone would insult her at court out of earshot from her father, Brienne’s eyes would scan the hall to ensure he hadn’t heard. When their eyes met, he always seemed pleased to see others willingly interacting with her; a spark of hope in his eyes.

More than anything, Brienne wanted to make him proud. She wanted to do her duty to Tarth. Brienne smiled to hide the tears pooling at the back of her eyes. His returning smile always made the pain worth it.

Looking at Tyrion now, Brienne smiled widely as she often did on Tarth. In return, the younger Lannister’s shoulders sagged in relief. Like her father, Tyrion assumed she was happy. He likely assumed his words believed. Holding her smile, Brienne tilted her head slightly.

“There. Now I’m smiling too. Can’t you see how happy I am? How  _ not _ broken inside I am?”

Letting her face fall, Brienne let Tyrion see the true pain behind her eyes. The message to Tyrion was clear.

_ I don’t believe in Jaime’s false smile and words anymore than I believe you. Leave me alone _ .

Brienne’s trust in Jaime was gone. If Jaime’s intention was to educate Brienne on how he would do anything for Cersei, he hit his mark. Any words to the contrary were a lie. It hurt, but Brienne reminded herself what she was to Jaime and the rest of Westeros. An unlovable, beast of a woman. Ugly in any light.

As Tyrion retreated down the hallway, Brienne shut the door and rested her forehead against it. She wondered what would become of Jaime.

_ Would he request execution if Cersei was found guilty? Would he take another at the Rock instead? _

The only thing that Brienne knew for certain, was that Jaime would never have belonged to her regardless of his decision to leave Winterfell  _ for Cersei _ . She knew it every night he came to her bed with no words of affection nor love. They spoke of every topic except their physical intimacy.

Jaime shared accounts of his childhood at the Rock, and Brienne listened with interest; too embarrassed to tell tales of her own childhood. She feared that voicing how accurate his earliest assumptions of her childhood had been, would snap Jaime from whatever trance he was in that allowed for their physical proximity.

Jaime shared tales of his earliest days as a knight, fighting beside his idol, Arthur Dayne. He spoke with a wistful smile and fondness for the acceptance he found before Aerys. Still, Brienne only listened. Despite her efforts as a soldier and sworn sword, she never had the respect of her peers while at Renly’s camp. No matter what she accomplished, she was only met with disdain and mockery.

Jaime shared stories of his family and childhood friends. Never Cersei, but usually Tyrion, his aunt, and his cousins. He sometimes spoke of his friend Addam who led the Lannister army in his stead. Brienne continued to listen. Her only kin was her father; a man she hadn’t seen in years. And of course, she had no childhood friends. 

Moving to the balcony, Brienne looked out at the city below. She gripped the railing and leaned over slightly, appraising the yards. The climb down was not far and Brienne could see several places in the stonework to grip and use as a ledge.

Having the Queensguard constantly at her back was frustrating. Brienne missed her independence and committed the observed path to memory. Brienne hoped to sneak out at night and take her frustration out on the practice dummy. A loud knock broke Brienne from her thoughts.

_ By the gods, if this is Tyrion again, I will punt him from where I stand. _

Calling for the visitor to enter, Brienne saw the Stark sisters move quickly into the room. Neither looked pleased, but in fairness, Arya never looked pleased. If her features weren’t expressionless, they reflected deadly intent or martial challenge.

Arya’s hands were clasped behind her back as she raised a brow and spoke at, rather than to, Brienne. “Rumors swirl in the city of Cersei’s survival. She was spotted several times at Rosby over the past moon turn. The people still believe the Kingslayer dead.”

Brienne cringed at the name. She moved to correct Arya, but the young wolf spoke once more.

“The West is aware of the rumors. They sent this missive.”

Arya extended her hand to Brienne. The House Lannister seal was broken, and the missive was addressed to Sansa.

_ Lady Sansa, _

_ How wonderful to know my goodniece is faring so well that she is now Hand to our queen. By ‘our’ queen, I mean ‘your’ queen. How very convenient that all kingdoms were called for a summit except the West. Your husband, or rather former husband, does not represent us, nor does it strike me that he would be equipped to if he spent the summit in chains. _

_ Even more convenient that your sworn sword is now suddenly a Targaryen with stronger claim than anyone else in Westeros. A most impressive tale. _

_ More impressive however are rumors swirling that my shit niece is still very much alive and carrying the West’s heir. Do with Cersei what you will, but that babe in her belly is of the West. _

_ I can venture a guess who the father is, and with him dead, that babe will lead our kingdom someday. Give Tyrion the role of Guardian all you like, but the West will never accept him. _

_ We want the babe and a reduction in these ridiculous taxes. Need I remind you that Cersei  _ _ Baratheon _ _ is not the West’s problem. She ceased being our problem the day that drunken oaf spoke his vows and bedded her. _

_ As to your new queen, you can give her my terms. Let me be very clear, Cersei did not have the full strength of the West in King’s Landing. The Lannister army was commanded by my nephew, and he did not send me orders to march them east. _

_ To be clear, I mean my dead nephew, Jaime, and not the nephew who may as well be dead to me. Jaime commanded his men to stand down and save as many innocents as possible from that wretched city. You would have nothing to rule over were it not for him.  _

_ What remains of our army is likely to outnumber whatever you send our way if we don’t get the babe and the reduction in financial penalty. _

_ Lady Genna Lannister (Frey) _

Brienne huffed in irritation as she handed the letter back to Arya. The events of the past week were too much to bear, and Genna’s letter hardly helped.

_ I never asked for any of this. This woman speaks of me as though I wove a lovely little tale for the sake of acquiring power. As though I think myself fit to be anything except a sworn sword. _

Without a word, Brienne turned back to the balcony and leaned against the railing. In a matter of hours, the Lannister twins would be in cells just levels below where Brienne now stood.

A steadying hand came to Brienne’s arm. Glancing to her right, Brienne met Sansa’s eyes.

“I only met Tyrion’s aunt once some years ago at my wedding. She is fiercely protective, and from what Tyrion told me, quite fond of Ser Jaime. She took on the role of mother to them when Lady Joanna died. I think she is upset at Ser Jaime’s presumed death, but this matter can be easily rectified. We’ll restore Ser Jaime’s title as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. That should satisfy them. I fear if we don’t restore his titles and they come to find out he is alive, they will rebel. We can name Tyrion as Master of Coin. After all he is done, he owes such an effort to the crown. Let him figure out this financial mess, and he can deal with Ser Jaime to ensure the West pays.”

Brienne nodded. “I just assumed to give Ser Jaime back his land and titles when he returned. I’ve no reason not to if he did all that Bran claims.”

Sansa nodded, but her eyes lingered on Brienne.

“Are you alright?”

Brienne huffed a small laugh and looked out at the city. “The letter had the right of it where it concerns me. My claim sounds ridiculous, and I can only imagine what visiting lords and ladies might think of me. As if my appearance wasn’t enough to mock before, now I get to be a pregnant whore on top of it. I don’t want this crown. Tyrion’s aunt speaks like I enjoy this. Like I want anything to do with ruling. Now on top of it, I get to see Tyrion every day. Delightful.”

Sansa turned to Arya and nodded slightly. The sound of Arya’s retreating footsteps signaled her departure from the room. 

“Brienne. A sovereign is meant to  _ protect _ the people. I can think of no better protector. Genna can pretend at caring little for Cersei, but House Lannister was just unseated. They are exposed and powerless. All the other kingdoms have chosen you, Brienne. We didn’t force this on anyone. You were there at the summit. The leading lords and ladies chose you. And you are not a whore. I would know after all. I was married to Tyrion who had quite the affinity for them. So much so, that he brought his whore to play at my chambermaid.”

Brienne snorted at the words. She appreciated Sansa’s effort to make her feel better. The young woman smiled warmly before continuing.

“I think that Tyrion would make a fine Master of Coin. He was in the role before and he has a mind for politics. He has erred in recent years, but he is a good man. Let this be how he atones. We’ll put that brain of his to good use.”

Brienne’s own words echoed in her mind. She turned away and grimaced at the memory of her groveling.

_ You’re a good man. You’re not like her, you’re not. _

Sansa’s voice drew Brienne’s attention back to the young woman. “I can understand why you’re upset with Tyrion. I am too. I never told you this, but I wrote to Jon after your words with me at Winterfell.”

At the admission, Brienne’s eyes went wide in shock. Sansa’s smile dropped, and she took a deep breath.

“I wrote Jon and indicated that Ser Jaime was headed south because of me. Because of my cruel words. I asked him to hold Ser Jaime until after the siege. A prisoner of sorts. Of course, leave it to Tyrion to free his brother. I’ve already had it out with Tyrion since his release. In his warped mind, he truly thought to be doing what was right by his brother. Idiots. The pair of them.”

Sansa smiled and Brienne couldn’t help but return the gesture. Considering Sansa’s words, Brienne nodded slowly.

“I know that I don’t have the right to be so upset with Tyrion. It isn’t as though I lacked the chance to stop Ser Jaime myself, but I couldn’t keep him from Cersei either. It would have been cruel. If someone who I loved was to be killed, I would go to them too, even if it was a lost cause.”

_ I would have gone to Jaime. I would have gone even knowing that he could never love me in return. _


	9. The Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lannister twins are captured and brought to the Keep. Jaime learns his fate.

The sound of approaching hooves caught Jaime by surprise. He had only sent the missive earlier that day, but it sounded as though a full cavalry was charging towards the cottage. Moving to the window, Jaime saw the banners of the new crown flapping in the wind; rose and blue quartered with a crown over the sun. Roughly a dozen Gold Cloaks led by Grey Worm approached.

_ How did they know? Was Cersei identified in the village? _

Glancing back at Cersei, Jaime noticed the confusion on her face. “What is that?”

Without answering Cersei, Jaime took a deep breath and stepped outside. As his eyes locked on Grey Worm, Jaime raised his arms slowly to indicate a peaceful surrender. Cersei huffed at his back and spoke through gritted teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing!?”

Jaime rolled his eyes as Cersei’s body moved against his back, but he remained facing the incoming soldiers. “Inviting them for lunch.”

Dainty hands shoved his side aggressively and sent a jolt of pain through Jaime’s recovering body. Cersei hissed in his ear and Jaime could feel the rage radiating off her.

“You fool! Kill them! You swore to protect us!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime’s eyes dropped to the swell at her belly. “I am. I’m protecting the child. You’re unwell, Cers. It’s time to stop with your games.”

“Traitor! I should have let you die of your wounds. You’re weak! This is why our first three were weak. Your deficiencies corrupted them.”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. He inwardly cursed Cersei’s womb for sparing her miserable life. The woman was truly madder than Aerys. Her plans were insanity personified.

As Grey Worm dismounted, he barked orders at the men who approached rapidly. Cersei was immediately restrained, but Jaime was subjected to little more than rough hands at his arms. They were placed atop horses; Cersei with one of the Gold Cloaks and Jaime on his own.

“Why isn’t he restrained!? This was all his idea!”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime looked to the sky and wondered if being eaten by the dragon was a kinder fate than enduring Cersei.

“I wrote them. I told them where we were and begged for that babe in your womb.”

Grey Worm’s brows rose slightly at Cersei, but the Unsullied commander said nothing of it. Ignoring the deadly glares being exchanged between the twins, Grey Worm moved to his horse and commanded the group forward. The ride to the city was mercifully short as Cersei cursed Jaime the entire way. Then she erred by mentioning Brienne.

“It’s that beast isn’t it!? You fucked that pitiful creature, didn’t you!?”

At the mention of Brienne, Jaime snapped at Cersei. His face reddened in anger as he met Cersei’s eyes.

“I didn’t fuck her! I made love to her every day for a moon turn. It was better than any quick fuck in a dark corner with you.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide at the words. Her jaw hung open for a moment before it snapped shut. The rider at her back bit back a laugh, but kept his eyes fixed forward and said nothing. Muttering under her breath, Cersei ignored Jaime for the rest of the journey.

When they arrived at the Keep, the soldiers led them towards the cells below the Keep. Glancing over her shoulder, Cersei smirked.

“I hope you enjoy your cell. Apparently, the cow doesn’t think as fondly on that moon turn as you did. I can’t say I’m surprised. Even Lancel made for a more pleasurable bedfellow than you.”

Jaime had heard rumors of Cersei’s infidelities in the past. Her admission would have enraged Jaime years ago, but now, it only amused him. Having long since accepted his illicit affair with Cersei as little more than a toxic, lust-driven dependency, Jaime disregarded her slight. Brienne was all he cared about, and he hardly blamed her for throwing him in a cell.

_ All that matters is her safety. That was my intent after all when I spoke such filth to her at Winterfell. _

Jaime was placed in a cell ordinarily reserved for petty criminals. Judging by Cersei’s distant protests, they were taking her to the black cells. Jaime appraised the small space.

The cell floor was covered in filthy straw that was pushed messily against the walls. The cold temperature of the drafty cell seeped in through Jaime’s tunic, sending a chill down his spine.

Sitting against the far wall, Jaime wondered at what they would do with him. He had little desire to plead his case. All he cared about was letting Brienne know that he loved her. Whatever punishment she deemed fit, Jaime would accept.

_ Stripped of lands and titles. Fine. Exiled. Fine. Beheaded. Fine. I just want to see her one final time. I want her to know the truth, even if she refuses it. _

Losing all track of time, Jaime’s head began to sway in fatigue. The sound of keys and footsteps cut through Jaime’s mental fog. As the cell door creaked open, Sansa Stark walked calmly into the dimly lit space. Her skirts dragged slightly on the floor, further displacing what little straw had been set down as a makeshift bed.

“Ser Jaime.”

_ Forever a Stark prisoner. How fitting. _

“Lady Sansa.  _ Lovely _ seeing you here.”

With an unimpressed glare, Sansa turned to the guards at her back. “Leave us.”

_ Daring wolf. Stepping into a cell with a crippled, old lion. _

Jaime imagined that Sansa would enjoy this moment. She would now have the opportunity to kill two Lannisters.

_ The dreaded Lannister twins. I hope she finds as much joy in it as she thought of at Winterfell. Gods willing, they at least allow the babe to live. _

“I imagine you’re curious why you were captured  _ before _ your letter arrived.”

At the words, Jaime’s head snapped to meet Sansa’s amused eyes. She leaned back against the cell door and raised a brow. When Jaime did not answer, Sansa continued.

“Bran found you. He informed us of your actions during the siege.”

_ Of course. How could I have failed to consider Bran? About as ridiculous as riding into a camp with my golden hand on and thinking they’ll not recognize me. _

“Can I speak with Brienne?”

Shaking her head, Sansa looked to the cell floor. “No. She has no desire to see you. For what you did for the city, you will be named Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Tyrion is to remain here as Master of Coin. We had previously named him Guardian of the West until a more suitable replacement could be named. How very convenient for us that Bran found you.”

At Brienne’s refusal to see him, any spark of hope felt snuffed out. Standing to full height, Sansa looked down at Jaime as he sat on the floor with his knees bent to his chest.

“Your sister depleted the crown’s bank and spent all of the coin stolen from Highgarden. The debt to the Iron Bank must be repaid, so we have imposed a tax penalty upon the West. Your kingdom may pay it in increments or all at once; I care little. You can take up the matter with Tyrion. See to it the debt is paid. Your aunt has threatened not to do so if the queen doesn’t adhere to  _ her _ terms.”

Jaime shook his head at the thought of Genna trying to throw her weight around. Nodding in agreement, Jaime mumbled under his breath. “I’ll see it done.”

“Good. You’ll be moved from the cell to a guest room befitting your station. Cersei is to stay here until the babe is delivered. Fortunately for you, Brienne is nothing like your sister. She doesn’t kill innocents.”

A weight lifted from Jaime’s shoulders at the words. While he didn’t consider Brienne to be anything like Cersei, it was still a welcome relief to know the babe would be allowed to live. Before he could ask once more to see Brienne, Sansa spoke; her voice less commanding and more sympathetic.

“I apologize for how I spoke to you at Winterfell when word arrived from the south. Brienne took me to task for it. I was angry and lashed out. Your sister destroyed my life. She destroyed my family and many other families. When her time comes for trial, I can assure you, I will not forget any of it. She will be executed. You must know that.”

Jaime nodded in understanding. The young woman took a long step towards him. Her face hardened once more.

“I also want you to know that the only reason you’re alive is because Bran has corroborated the story in your letter and because it would hurt my friend to see your head removed from your shoulders. Let me be very clear though. If you ever make Brienne cry again, my form of justice will make your sister’s and the mad king’s feel like a summer breeze.”

The look in Sansa’s eyes was deadly, but Jaime had no fight left in him. Brienne was safe, and the babe in Cersei’s belly would be allowed to live.

“Please. Let me see Brienne.”

Sansa opened the door to the cell and looked back over her shoulder. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear before. I am not keeping you from seeing Brienne. She doesn’t wish to see you. She sent me down here.”

Glancing back at someone out of view, Sansa nodded and spoke in hushed tones. As the young woman moved away from the cell, two guards came in and hauled Jaime to his feet. They guided him from the cells and into the dimly lit hallway. The unmistakable form of Arya Stark came into view. A cutting smile stretched across her face as she appraised him.

“My fellow kingslayer. Shall we?”

Turning on her heels, Arya guided them through the Keep and towards the rooms. Jaime marveled at the destruction that certain sections of the Keep endured. He imagined that had he and Cersei not escaped when they did, they would have been entombed in the stonework they once called home.

They walked in silence as Arya led them to the level where guests were typically housed. Moving into the room, Arya produced a letter from her pocket. It had the seal of House Lannister on it and the missive appeared to be addressed to Sansa.

Shoving the letter against Jaime’s chest, Arya raised a brow. “Keep your aunt under control, or I’ll pay the Rock a visit.”

The young wolf sauntered out of the room without a care in the world. Opening the letter, Jaime sat on the edge of the bed and read it slowly. He grimaced at the words and hung his head in shame.

_ Even Aunt Genna knows of my depravities. She threatens a queen with her terms and defends me even in death. If only she knew what I did to Brienne. If only she knew what a good woman Brienne is. _

Falling backwards on the bed, Jaime sighed and looked to the ceiling. It was frustrating to know that Brienne was in the same Keep, but he couldn’t get to her. As much as it hurt to be shut out by Brienne, Jaime understood her decision to avoid him. He hurt her in the worst way. It mattered little that he did it to keep her safe.

Considering his fate, Jaime thought it far too generous. They gave Jaime his birthright, and they would allow his child to live. He didn’t deserve the Rock nor did he want it. He wanted Brienne. As for the child, he wondered what would become of him or her.

_ Will they let me raise the babe? Is it truly mine? _

Jaime still struggled to accept that the babe was his, but the timing seemed to align. While the swell at Cersei’s belly seems smaller than it usually did at six moons, Jaime considered her words at the cottage.

_ She wouldn’t let someone as unsavory as Euron put a babe in her, would she? _

It seemed implausible to Jaime. Knowing Cersei, she would take a cousin to bed before a Greyjoy. Jaime was hardly surprised to hear of her relationship with Lancel.

Deciding that Cersei wouldn’t allow a Greyjoy to quicken in her womb, Jaime smiled slightly at the thought of finally having a babe to claim;  _ if _ Brienne would allow him to claim the babe.

_ I would rather have a babe with Brienne, but the Night King is more likely to return with another army than Brienne is to allow me into her bed ever again. _

Then it hit Jaime.

_ Fuck. I never told her about the babe. I didn’t think it true. _


	10. The Lannisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa considers her more recent lessons. She pays a visit to an old friend and write a response to her former husband's aunt.

Sansa watched as the guards pulled Jaime from the cell. Inwardly, Sansa was at war with herself. She hated how Jaime left Brienne, and she wished to take his head off by her own hand. On the other hand, she had seen the way Jaime looked at Brienne at Winterfell.

She observed the longing stares and small smiles exchanged between the knights. She wanted to believe Jaime’s words to Tyrion surrounding his true intent. A part of Sansa longed to see the maiden truly coveted by the knight. 

When she had eventually come to learn the full extent of Jaime’s and Brienne’s journey together, her heart melted. It was all so romantic and better than any tale she read; minus Jaime losing a hand of course.

Still, her friend was hurting. Brienne could be incredibly stubborn and Jaime’s odds of getting to speak with her again were unlikely. As much as Sansa wanted to see Brienne and Jaime find their way back to each other as they had so many times before, it wasn’t her place to intercede. She learned that lesson the hard way when the missive arrived at Winterfell, and it nearly cost Sansa her dearest friend.

Thinking back to the day the raven brought word of fighting to the south, Sansa remembered the hate in her heart. She recalled the cruelty with which she delivered the message to Jaime. His reaction had been similar to his demeanor in the cell; pensive and downtrodden.

_ Several Moons Earlier _

Brienne had followed Sansa in silence back to her study. When Sansa moved to close the door, she was surprised to see Brienne moving inside quickly. It was an uncommon behavior. Brienne typically stood guard outside the door while Sansa tended to matters alone.

“What?”

Sansa had watched as Brienne’s jaw clenched in obvious anger. Swallowing thickly, Brienne glanced away to collect herself.

“In my years of service to you, I’ve never once questioned your character. What you just did to Ser Jaime was cruel in the worst way. It’s the first time you’ve conducted yourself in a manner that your mother would not be proud of.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide in shock. Anger coursed through her body as she appraised her insolent sworn sword. Taking a step towards Brienne, Sansa snapped at her.

“How dare you speak to me in such a way, and speak of my mother as though you knew her!”

“I  _ did  _ know her. She was kind to me when others would rather see me hang for a crime I didn’t commit. I know what I am. Aside from Renly and Ser Jaime, no one has ever been kind to someone such as me without motivation. I know that Cersei has done unthinkable things to your family, and for that she deserves all seven of the hells coming for her. But Ser Jaime has done nothing to you. He kept his oath to your mother and rode north into enemy encampment to fight for the living. Despite knowing what is moving against Cersei, he has stayed here rather than return to her side. I had hoped that you of all people would understand how much it hurts to be separated from your family when death marches for them.”

Unable to look at her sworn sword, Sansa screamed at her to leave. The rest of the day had been a blur. Brienne’s words tormented Sansa. As anger faded away, Sansa felt regret. She knew that she would need to apologize to them both. They were not her enemy despite Ser Jaime’s warped relationship with his sister. 

The next day when Sansa entered her study, she was shocked to find Brienne there. Her sworn sword was sitting in her robe and looking as though she walked straight into the seven hells and back again.

“Brienne?”

At Sansa’s voice, Brienne stood and bowed in greeting. Brienne’s eyes were swollen and red as she avoided making eye contact. “My lady. I’m very sorry, but Ser Jaime left last night to return to Cersei. I failed to stop him.”

Sansa exhaled loudly; her eyes closing to steady herself.  _ This is my fault. _

“Brienne, I’m so sorry. I should have sought both of you out and apologized last night.”

At Sansa’s words, Brienne had broken down. Sansa had never thought Brienne capable of breaking. She was always so strong and stoic; her emotions deeply repressed. Even yesterday when upset, Brienne had maintained her composure.

Sansa had learned long ago the importance of wearing a mask of indifference. Emotions were a weakness that could be exploited by the enemy. Seeing Brienne’s heart shatter was something that Sansa thought would weaken her faith in the woman, but it had the opposite effect. Sansa realized how much she cared for Brienne. She was more than a sworn sword. It was likely that Brienne was the closest thing she had to a friend. Chosen family.

_ She could have ridden south with him. She could have left the moment the dead fell; she and Ser Jaime. She stayed. He stayed because she would not leave me. _

  
  


Sansa knew that day that she would do anything for Brienne. All she wanted was to see her friend smile once again. Unfortunately, the only person who had ever elicited a genuine smile from Brienne, was the same person who had reduced her to tears.

Moving towards Cersei’s cell, Sansa felt hate replace the memory of her friend’s broken heart. Sansa had long hated Cersei for what she did to her family. For the torture Cersei inflicted on her in King’s Landing. For hurting so many in her selfish pursuit of power. Now, Sansa had a new reason to hate Cersei.

_ For Brienne. _

Grabbing a torch from the wall, Sansa moved towards the black cells. When she arrived, the guards stationed outside joined her as Sansa stepped into the darkened space to meet her ghost.

Holding the torchlight before her, Sansa’s eyes landed on Cersei. The disgraced queen held her arm before her eyes as they adjusted to the sudden light. The swell at Cersei’s belly was the physical representation of how vulnerable the former queen was.

A vicious smile tugged at Cersei’s lips as she recognized Sansa. “The little dove has flown home. How wonderful.”

Sansa took a step forward, her eyes dancing with mirth. A cutting edge to her tone echoed off the cell walls. “Now that we have a true Queen to lead the Seven Kingdoms, I am glad to return as her Hand. Speaking of that, I thought it was only fair to update you on some changes regarding your status.”

Cersei’s face fell as she took in Sansa’s words. Her eyes remained locked on Sansa as the young woman continued to speak.

“You are henceforth stripped of all lands and titles. Your marriage to King Robert Baratheon is being posthumously annulled and you are no longer anyone’s lady. History will not remember you as anything more than a whore who birthed bastards that attempted to hold the throne.”

Cersei tried to lunge forward in a rage, but the chains at her wrists which were anchored to the wall kept Cersei rooted in place. Cersei fell to her knees in anger and defeat. With a vicious smile, Sansa continued.

“You will deliver your babe and then face trial for your many crimes against the realm.” A small laugh escaped Sansa’s lips as she crouched before Cersei.

“I believe you once told me that the greatest honor for a queen was bringing little princes and princesses into the world. I’m very excited to watch our new queen do just that. Your brother was certainly quite enthusiastic in the making of the babe. I nearly considered having my room relocated at Winterfell so that I could find rest at night.”

Cersei screamed and raged. Her arms thrashed about wildly and tugged hard against her restraints. Standing from her crouched position, Sansa smiled widely.

“Truly there’s no need to be so upset. Remember, love no one but your children.”

Without another word, Sansa left the cell. The wide smile remained plastered to her face as she retreated to the council room. At her back, Cersei’s screams of rage and hurt drifted down the long corridor of cells that Sansa passed.

When soon Sansa arrived at the council, she sat down and awaited the others to arrive. There was one part of Genna’s letter that weighed on Sansa and she meant to address it with the council. When soon the doors opened, Sansa smiled as Arya, Tyrion, Davos, Grey Worm, Maester Tyton, and Brienne walked in. 

Once everyone was settled around the table, Sansa raised the topic that gnawed at her.

“Every kingdom except the West was present at the summit and chose Brienne to rule. Even still, there may be some who question her lineage. I partly think it matters little. The crown was won by conquest just as Robert won it. That said, I worry for Brienne’s safety.”

Those assembled looked to Sansa in question. It was Grey Worm who spoke first. “What you mean? We protect her.”

Sansa smiled and nodded. “Yes, and I know you’ll do a fine job of it. Unfortunately, there are some things you can’t protect her from. Littlefinger and my aunt conspired to kill my uncle. There are things between men and women that can’t be guarded around the hour. Our queen is unwed and with child. Men will try to court her to acquire power. I fear for Brienne and her babe if the wrong man becomes consort. I have an idea.”

Brienne shook her head; her face hardening in resolve. “I will not wed if you’re thinking of arranging a match.”

Sansa huffed at the words. Looking at Brienne, she put up a plaintive hand. “I suggest a false betrothal. Something to keep those hungry for power away. We happen to have the perfect nobleman not far from us.”

Taking pause, Sansa appraised the confused eyes looking back at her. “Jon. He also has a claim, though not as strong as Brienne’s. Like Brienne, he has little desire for marriage. They can keep each other safe. Just enough contrived pleasantries to make people think they will wed. It will bring a degree of stability to the crown, and raise less eyebrows when Brienne grows heavy with child.”

Tyrion’s eyes went wide. “You won’t allow my brother to claim the child?”

Sansa leaned back in her chair and cringed. Brienne’s rage was palpable at her side as she berated Tyrion. “What!? Why would he have a claim!? He abandoned me for Cersei. Let him have their babe when its born. Leave mine alone. This babe will be a Tarth.”

“He came here to kill Cersei. This will hurt him! He loves you, I know it!”

_ Gods, Tyrion. Shut up. She’ll tear your head off. _

Brienne stood from her chair and leaned over the table towards Tyrion. Except for Arya, the rest of the small council looked to their laps. She appeared to be enjoying this.

“Hurt him!? He left me standing in a courtyard begging him to not run straight into the Stranger’s arms. He looked into my eyes and said all that he has done for  _ Cersei _ .  _ Everything  _ is for Cersei. The moment he cast me aside was the moment he lost any right to this babe. Fuck you, Tyrion!”

As Brienne stormed out of the room, Arya snickered at Tyrion. “Keep that up and you might find yourself beside Cersei in that cell. Idiot.”

Standing from her chair, Arya dropped any mirth from her face. She leaned over as Brienne had done moments earlier. Glaring at Tyrion, Arya offered a warning.

“If you ever again insinuate that Brienne owes your brother a thing, I will provide you with a live demonstration on your person as to how I defeated death itself.”

As Arya left the room, Sansa sighed and glanced at Tyrion. He sat stunned in his chair as the other members of the council slowly stood and excused themselves.

“I once thought you so clever. I’m beginning to wonder if it was the ignorance of a young girl, or a shared blind spot.”

Tyrion’s brows furrowed at the words. “A shared blind spot?”

Tilting her head, Sansa considered her former husband. She would always have a place in her heart for Tyrion. He protected her from the worst of them. Tyrion was a good man. Kind, intelligent, and witty. A part of her felt something more, but she could never give it a voice.

“Yes, I begin to wonder if all of us who think ourselves so clever have such a blind spot. Littlefinger certainly did. Brienne called me to task on it as well. I do hate being on the receiving end of her wrath.”

A small chuckle pushed past Tyrion’s lips. “She is frightening.”

“Sometimes you think yourself too clever and you don’t consider your opponent. You are so eager to see your desires win out, that you don’t hear or see the opposition. If you took the time to look at Brienne, you would see how deeply she is hurting. She has a rough exterior, but she longs to be loved. No one has ever given her that. Your brother bedded her for a moon turn at Winterfell. He never told Brienne that he loved her. He never spoke affectionately. He never discussed a future with her. Night after night, he found his way into her bed. Then he left her alone and crying in the snow, claiming that he meant to go back to his love.” 

Sansa paused and appraised Tyrion. “I know of Shae… of her betrayal.”

Tyrion’s jaw went slack at the mention of Shae. His eyes misted slightly before he looked away.

“Unfortunately, I do believe that you and Brienne have more in common than you realize. I imagine you both know what it is like to spend much of your life the object of mockery and scorn. Then you finally open your heart to someone you think true, and that person betrays you in the cruelest way. That is what your brother did to Brienne. She owes him  _ nothing _ .”

The words hit their mark as Tyrion hung his head and sighed. “I’ll speak with her. I admit, my intentions are selfish. I wish to see my brother happy, but I have not considered Brienne’s feelings. Unfortunately, I behaved the same way at Winterfell and offended her; all in an effort to get Jaime to make his move. He loves her, Sansa. I just know it. He would barely defend me against Cersei. The fact that he claims intent to kill her speaks volumes of his love for Brienne. It  _ has  _ to be true.”

“Even if it is, he threw it all away. Brienne deserves to be happy. If you aren’t here to support her happiness and reign, then you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Tyrion nodded in understanding. “I owe her that much. I’m here to support her, both personally and for the crown.”

Over the coming days, Sansa accomplished much. She spoke with Jon about the plan and he agreed to help. It took some convincing, but Brienne agreed to the betrothal. Still, she refused to formally announce it until she could speak with her father. The older lord was planning to visit, but he had been busy on Tarth.

Brienne sent requests for aid to the island as they were unaffected by the many wars over the years. She sought food to help feed the people of King’s Landing as the Keep was running low on food stores. Rumors swirled of continued resentment in the West. Until Brienne agreed to speak with him, Jaime refused to send word of his survival.

For days, Jaime followed Sansa around like a lost puppy. He begged to see Brienne, but Sansa continued to remind him that it was not her decision. In private, she tried to encourage Brienne to at least speak with Jaime. She could see the truth of it behind Brienne’s eyes. Her friend loved him, but she was holding back for reasons that Sansa didn’t dare push her on.

Sitting down at her desk, Sansa picked up a parchment and quill.

_ Lady Genna, _

_ How wonderful to hear from you after these years. I’ll admit that for a House so dedicated to placing family first, I’m surprised at your words regarding Tyrion. I understand Lord Tywin was your brother, but Tyrion is also your nephew. _

_ I saw firsthand his torment at the hands of his family. I heard how Tywin and Cersei sought to execute him on false charges. Do you truly back them in that? Tyrion always spoke fondly of you. It would be a shame that he loses what little family he has left. _

_ To your demands of the crown, I can do little more than raise a brow. How are you anymore fit to speak on behalf of the West? I do believe you married a Frey. Just as you would cast Cersei off to the Stormlands, would you not then speak on behalf of House Frey in the Riverlands? _

_ Now that I think on it, my marriage to Lord Tyrion was never annulled before I was forced to wed my captors of House Bolton. I do believe that would make me a Lannister and a representative to the West at the summit. Let me state very clearly, I support Queen Brienne’s claim. Even if her lineage was not true, which it is, the crown was won by conquest just as it was won by Robert before. _

_ Regardless, Queen Brienne Tarth is soon to make a betrothal announcement of her own to Aegon Targaryen, the legitimate son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my aunt, Lady Lyanna Stark. Don’t believe me? Inquire at the Citadel. The marriage between Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia Martell was annulled. _

_ As someone who lost many loved ones at the hand of your House by birth, let me extend my sympathies on the grief you have been caused at false word of your kin’s demise. I imagine you’ve not heard, but your nephew is very much alive and well. _

_ I imagine Ser Jaime has not written to you, because he is too busy trailing after anyone who can grant him access to Queen Brienne. He was named Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, but it seems to me that he has little desire to hold any title other than Consort. Please come collect him before he drives the entirety of King’s Landing mad with his pining. _

_ Oh, and by the way, Ser Jaime feels the tax penalty more than fair. He has agreed that the Rock will pay as large a lump sum as possible, and the rest will be provided every moon turn in installments. _

_ Yours, _

_ Sansa Stark (Lannister)  _


	11. The Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime hears rumors of the new crown and reacts as only he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a double posting day, though I'm sorry I can't post it now (work calls, but I'll post on my lunch break).

It had been a week since Jaime was provided guest quarters in the Keep. While his stay was expected to be brief, he refused to leave until he had a chance to speak with Brienne. He had little desire to be Lord of the Rock, let alone Warden of the West. The only thing anchoring Jaime to Westeros other than Brienne was the babe in Cersei’s belly.

Without either of them, Jaime would have left. He would have spent his days punishing himself across the Narrow Sea for sullying the only good thing to ever come into his shit life. Brienne. 

Jaime knew he couldn’t do any of that however. Despite not wanting for any of it, he would do as Brienne asked of him. Being lord at the Rock without the love of his life certainly felt punishment enough. He just wanted to see her. Just one last time.

More disconcerting than his inability to see Brienne were the rumors swirling the Keep and city. From what Jaime could gather, the people of King’s Landing adored Brienne. He was hardly surprised by their opinion of her, but he was concerned by the whispers from their lips.

He heard tales of a mysterious illness that had gripped the queen for over a moon turn. Knowing Brienne as he did, Jaime feared she was wearing herself out and trying to do too much. He heard rumors of a secret betrothal between the queen and an unnamed suitor. Jaime despaired that perhaps Brienne would not speak with him because she had moved on.

_ Gods. If it’s that fucking wildling, I’ll lose my mind. _

Jaime knew it was childish, but he couldn’t move in any direction without speaking to Brienne. He chastised himself for the lies he spoke in his effort to keep Brienne safe.

More worrisome was not his lie, but his lack of disclosure. The guilt gnawed at Jaime, and he feared Brienne’s reaction at finding out that Cersei was with child. It was not something that occurred to Jaime to discuss at Winterfell, as he didn’t believe it true.

Almost as frustrating as Brienne’s refusal to see him, was Tyrion’s lack of availability. The new Master of Coin was overwhelmed by the crown’s debt and the need to raise funds to rebuild. When Tyrion did make time for Jaime, he refused to speak of Brienne.

Something seemed off with Tyrion that Jaime couldn’t put his finger on. There was a hint of anger in Tyrion’s tone when the subject first came up surrounding Brienne.

_ ‘So now you wish to speak of her? Odd, her name did not once fall from your lips when I freed you before the siege. I risked my life for what I thought was your happiness. Now you mean to tell me that your happiness was in fact at Winterfell?’ _

Jaime didn’t understand why Tyrion was so angry with him. Surely Jaime understood the pain of being lied to, but something deeper seemed to weigh on Tyrion. Something that Jaime tried to extract from his younger brother, but the answer was elusive.

Now as Jaime stood pacing in Tyrion’s room, he awaited his little brother to finish writing a missive. The early morning sun shone brightly in Tyrion’s room and framed the younger Lannister’s unruly hair. Jaime ran a hand through his own freshly shorn hair.

Never knowing if or when Brienne would see him, Jaime tried every day to look as presentable as possible. He shaved the beard that had grown during the long journey to Winterfell and proven vital in the Northern climate.

Sitting down in a huff, Jaime stared at Tyrion. It seemed his brother was writing slower than usual on purpose. Without looking up, Tyrion grumbled and spoke pointedly.

“Go on. Spit it out.”

Tyrion’s tone and demeanor reminded Jaime far too much of Tywin. Tapping the floor with his foot, Jaime crossed his arms and scowled.

“I can’t take this anymore, Tyrion. Brienne refuses to see me and my own brother won’t speak plainly to me. Every day I walk around this Keep or ride into the city, and I hear worrisome rumors about the crown.”

At the mention of the crown, Tyrion stopped writing and looked up. His expression was grave as she questioned Jaime.

“What of the crown? What are you hearing?”

Putting his arms on Tyrion’s desk, Jaime leaned forward and held Tyrion’s stare. “They say Brienne has been unwell. They say she’s betrothed to some nameless man. You act as though speaking of her will see your bloody head removed. What is going on!? Is she well? Please, just tell me if she is alright.”

With a heavy sigh, Tyrion sat back in his chair. He seemed to consider something as his jaw began to grind back and forth. Something was troubling Tyrion which made Jaime panic.

“The Queen is fine. She avoids you for no other reason than you are annoying at best. I can assure you of that fact, as I seem to be stuck fielding your daily complaints. I just don’t understand you, Jaime. All your life you have loved one woman. A woman who drove you to do things that I know you wanted no part in. Then you finally find happiness, only to throw it all away. And for what? To do something that an entire fucking army was more than capable of?”

_ Seven hells. Not another scolding at how stupid I am. _

“I told you in that tent that you always underestimate Cersei. Everyone does. The worries that I tried to convey to you were no lie. She was turning the tide. She felled a dragon. She killed your queen’s friend and advisor. She drove Daenerys mad. Madder than Aerys. I needed to stop her or else she would have won. She would have marched north and killed Brienne and it would have been my fault! I should have stopped Cersei years ago, but I was weak. It’s my fault it got this far.”

Tyrion shook his head; frustration evident in his features. “And tell me, brother. How effective were you in that objective when you helped Cersei escape?”

Jaime leaned back and threw out his arms. An incredulous expression stretched across Jaime’s features. “What would you have had me do? Kill a pregnant woman!? I planned to turn her in once the babe was born. The babe is innocent in all this and needs a father.”

Tyrion’s fist slammed onto the table. “And so does Brienne’s babe!”

Any air in Jaime’s lungs left him at Tyrion’s outburst. The room seemed to still as a heavy silence fell over them and Jaime stared unblinkingly at Tyrion. Tyrion’s head fell and he rubbed at his forehead. Whether intentional or not, Tyrion’s divulged information suddenly explained much of what Jaime heard.

Standing slowly from his chair, Jaime leaned forward and tried to compose himself. “Is the babe mine, or this new man’s?”

Biting his tongue, Jaime tried to control a flurry of emotions that had been kicked up inside. Tyrion raised his head at the question; his brows furrowing in response.

“Is it yours or… Gods. You  _ are  _ an idiot, Jaime. I have been going crazy with guilt at the knowledge that I almost left my niece or nephew without a father in this world. Brienne is an unwed, pregnant, young Queen. Do you have any idea how vulnerable that makes her? Of course, the babe is yours!”

As the gravity of the situation washed over Jaime, he took a steadying breath. “Please, Tyrion. I need to see her. She is carrying my babe. I need to fix this. I need to tell her the truth of it all. I… I never told her at Winterfell.”

Jaime slumped into the chair and buried his head in his hands; one flesh and one gold.

“Never told her what?” Tyron sounded tired and pained. It was as though he was afraid to hear the answer.

“For most of my life, I thought myself in love with Cersei. I was wrong of course. As I said… stupidest Lannister. Meeting Brienne made me realize how false and unhealthy that love was. I love Brienne more than anything, Tyrion. I never told her. I was afraid to.”

Without looking up, Jaime heard Tyrion’s approach. A warm hand came to his shoulder.

“Why would you be afraid to tell her that? She doesn’t strike me the type to disregard your emotions.”

Jaime dropped his hands from his face, but kept his gaze fixed to the floor. It felt as though he was back at Winterfell battling the same demons.

“She’s too good for me. I’m just an old cripple who fucked his own sister for most of his miserable life. My love would only sully her. She is everything I’m not; honorable, kind, loyal, talented… just amazing. She’s amazing. Now I truly ruined her. No good comes to anything I touch.”

Tyrion huffed in annoyance. His hand dropped from Jaime’s shoulder and he leaned against the desk. Jaime could feel Tyrion’s judgmental eyes staring at him.

“I hate when you get on these self-loathing kicks. It’s truly pathetic. Everything I said to you in that tent, I meant it. You saved me. I know you’re a good man. Brienne knows you’re a good man. The woman is more timid than any other person I’ve ever met, yet she stood before you at Winterfell and vouched for you. She vouched for you to people who wanted little more than to see your head on a spike.”

Tyrion’s words reminded Jaime of the night he left Brienne crying in the courtyard. His heart ached at the memory. Every part of Jaime had wanted to hold her close and never let her go.

“Who is she to wed?”

With a sigh, Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t do this to yourself, Jaime. What difference does it make?”

“I want to know! She has my babe in her belly, and I love her. Who is it? Please, don’t let it be Tormund.”

Tyrion snorted and shook his head. “I think she would sooner gut the man than wed him. She is  _ betrothed  _ to Jon Snow, but it’s on for…”

Before Tyrion could finish, Jaime leapt to his feet. “What!? Jon Snow! So she is to have my babe, a bastard, and marry Ned Stark’s bastard!? No! I need to see her now. Where is she!?”

“What? What are you even on about? Oh… oh gods, you don’t even know. Jon Snow isn’t Ned’s son. He’s Aegon Targaryen. The son of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. They wed in secret after Rhaegar had his marriage annulled.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. Grabbing Tyrion by the jerkin, he pulled him close. “Where is she, Tyrion?”

“She’s busy, Jaime. It isn’t as though she’s abed all day. She’s in meetings. Listen about this betrothal...”

From his years in the Kingsguard, Jaime knew there were only two places that Brienne would have formal meetings. The small council chambers or the Hand’s study. Storming from the room, Jaime ran towards the small council chambers. Tyrion screamed at his back and tried to chase after him, but Jaime’s long legs gave him too much of an advantage.

Chambermaids scrambled out of the way as Jaime sprinted through the Keep. His mind was awhirl with information. His ribs burned slightly at the exertion, but Jaime cared little. The only thing he cared about was speaking with Brienne immediately.

Rounding the final corner to where the small council chambers were, Jaime noted the two Queensguard on duty; Pod and Ser Boros.

Seeing his rapid approach, Ser Boros put up a warning hand up. “Ser Jaime, that’s enough now! Stop right there.”

Ignoring his former brother of the Kingsguard, Jaime surged forward towards the door. Both Pod and Ser Boros grabbed his body and desperately tried to keep him from getting inside.

“Enough, Ser Jaime!” Pod screamed and held Jaime back with surprising force.

“Let me through! I need to see her!” Jaime thrashed wildly, but the two men pushed him to the floor. His body was too weak from the injuries sustained during the siege.

Jaime began screaming for Brienne as he struggled under the weight of the men. With everything he had, Jaime flung his head backwards into Ser Boros’ face.

“Fuck! Gods dammit, Jaime!” With Boros off him, Jaime righted himself as Pod clung to his back. They toppled through the door to the small council room; Pod landing hard on top of Jaime.

“I said stop or I’ll throw you in the cells!” Pod’s voice brokered no argument, but his effort was a lost cause. Jaime was already inside and staring at Brienne. 

Brienne had never looked more beautiful to Jaime as she did then. Rather than the usual manner in which her hair was brushed back, Brienne’s hair had grown slightly and fell loosely around her face. There was a slight curl to it that Jaime never noticed before.

Her skin seemed to be glowing; softer somehow. There was a healthy pink to her cheeks that managed to make her eyes stand out even more. Her breasts were fuller than usual and her subtle curves appeared slightly more pronounced despite no visible swell yet appearing at her belly. 

Brienne sure looked the part of a Tarth sovereign. She wore well-fitted, tan breeches and a deep blue doublet over a feminine, tightly hemmed rose tunic. The Tarth sigil was stitched over the left breast. 

Other than Brienne, only Arya and Sansa occupied the room.

“Enough!” Brienne screamed at Pod and Jaime.

Standing upright, Pod grabbed Jaime’s arm. His face was red with rage as he locked eyes with Jaime. At Jaime’s other side, Boros entered the room with blood pouring from his nose.

Brienne took a step forward and appraised the men; her eyes wide in horror. Looking at Jaime, Brienne narrowed her eyes “What do you think you’re doing!?”

“I need to speak with you. Please!” Jaime’s eyes were desperate as he stared at Brienne. His heart dropped at the resolve in her face.

“No. I don’t owe you a thing.”

“I know about the babe! Do you truly mean to ignore me forever?” Brienne grunted in frustration at Jaime’s words. Glancing back at the Stark sisters, Brienne took a steadying breath before meeting Jaime’s eyes.

Brienne spoke calmly at her Queensguard. “Please see the maester, Ser Boros. I’m certain that Ser Jaime will apologize later or suffer the consequences. Ser Pod, it’s fine. Leave us for a moment.”

Pod removed his grip from Jaime’s arm. He leaned in and whispered with venom lacing his tone. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.”

With the two knights sent from the room, Jaime’s eyes darted to Sansa and Arya. “Can I speak with you privately?”

“No. Whatever is so important that it could not wait, say it now.”

Arya smirked at Brienne’s back; her eyes shining with amusement. Unlike her sister, Sansa appeared exhausted more than anything.

“I lied to you at Winterfell. I said horrible things to hurt you so that you wouldn’t follow me. In truth, I planned to kill Cersei.”

Brienne snorted and shook her head. As her arms crossed over her chest, Jaime could sense Brienne closing off. Walls he once broke down in a bath at Harrenhal now loomed taller than ever.

Brienne’s eyes looked distant as she stared at the ceiling in thinly veiled annoyance. Glancing to the Stark sisters, Jaime could feel the weight of their scrutinizing eyes.

Jaime’s nerves began to kick in. He had never bared his soul to anyone before, and to do it with an audience was mortifying. Swallowing thickly, Jaime’s hand fidgeted anxiously as she tried to will Brienne into looking at him.

“I’m not lying, Brienne. If Cersei won, she would have killed you. She would have made you suffer because I… I really wish we could speak in private.”

“No.” Brienne’s reply was curt. It was clear that her patience was wearing thin.

Taking a step closer, Jaime spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Please don’t marry Jon. I love you, and I want to make things right by you.”

“No.” Brienne’s words hurt more than the injuries inflicted by the Mountain. When her eyes met his, Jaime saw the raw emotion on her face. “The woman you love is in a cell. I’ll not be made a fool of by you.”

“I don’t love Cersei! I haven’t in some time. I swear it, Brienne…”

“Yet you’ve done so much  _ for Cersei _ . Yet you stayed by her side through  _ everything _ ; even wildfire.”

Jaime’s jaw dropped as Brienne called him to task for his failure to deal with Cersei when she proved herself no better than Aerys. It occurred to him then. Jaime realized with horror that Brienne didn’t believe in him anymore. That fact hurt more than her refusal of his love.

Frustration began to build; more at himself than Brienne. He lashed out as he did when they were in the Riverlands many years ago.

“So, you’ll marry Jon and give my babe the name of a Northern bastard? Snow. How perfect considering that is where we made the babe.”

Rage simmered in Brienne as she snarled at Jaime. “ _ My _ babe will be a Tarth. You treated me like a whore, so you get little say in what I name the babe.”

“ _ Our _ babe! I love you and that babe whether you wish me to or not. Don’t make me stand by and watch another man raise my child. I can’t do it again.” Jaime’s voice broke slightly at the idea of another man playing at father to his babe with Brienne.

A flicker of guilt shone in Brienne’s eyes before her steely resolve returned.

“Then go West. You seem rather recovered to me; injuring my guards and charging through the door like an animal. In truth, I think you linger because your love is in the black cells. Do you fear that I won’t ensure your babe is delivered safely to you? I’m not a monster like your sister. I would not harm the child you’re to have with her. The child you neglected to inform me of at Winterfell.”

“I didn’t think she was pregnant. There was nothing to tell.”

Brienne huffed a bitter laugh. “You didn’t think, or you didn’t know?”

Jaime’s head hung at the question and he exhaled loudly. “I didn’t believe her. Of course, I want the babe safe, but it is our babe that I want to raise with you. Please, Brienne. Give me a chance.”

Once more, Brienne denied him, but it was Sansa’s voice that caught Jaime’s attention.

“It might be for the best, Brienne.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide, and she turned to face Sansa. “What!? No!”

Putting up a defensive hand, Sansa took a step forward. “If you betroth Ser Jaime, it will assuage the West and it addresses our other  _ concern _ .”

Sansa looked pointedly at Brienne. Her eyes darted to Arya who offered a nearly imperceptible nod. A small spark of hope ignited in Jaime. If the Stark sisters could convince Brienne, Jaime committed to taking full advantage of the opportunity. He would do anything to earn Brienne’s trust back, no matter what she asked of him.

More than anything, Jaime desperately needed Brienne to know how much he loved her. The three women spoke in hushed tones before Brienne turned back to Jaime.

She looked distraught and Jaime had to fight the urge to hold her. “I’ll discuss this further with Lady Sansa. I’ll have word sent to your room when I’m ready to give you my decision.” 


	12. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne considers everything and sets her terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day as promised! This chapter goes along with the prior "The Rumors"

As the door to the small council chambers closed, Brienne took a steadying breath and turned to face the Stark sisters. She would hear them out, but Brienne’s first thought was to feel betrayed.

_ How can they not see that Jaime only means to use me to save Cersei? Cersei is in the cells and ready to have his babe. It seems logical that he would pretend at love to sway my handling of his sister. _

“Brienne, I’m sorry to have suggested that in front of Ser Jaime, but he wasn’t lying to you. This could work to our advantage.”

An incredulous expression stretched across Brienne’s face as she gawked at Sansa. With a nod to Arya, Sansa encouraged her sister to provide input.

“I can tell when people lie. It was part of my training in Braavos. He’s in love with you. Quite pathetic really.”

Brienne took a step back as if slapped; her face contorting in pain. “It’s not true. Please, just stop it.”

Raising a placating hand, Sansa tried to calm Brienne. “Just hear me out. We  _ need  _ to make you a true match. The arrangement we have with you and Jon is great, but what happens when the babe arrives and the pair of you still are not wed? You’re in a precarious position. I do believe that if given the option between Ser Jaime and Jon, you would be happier with Ser Jaime. My cousin is a good man, but… he makes you seem effervescent in comparison.”

_ Yes, well perhaps I prefer brooding without contrived love to lies and heartache.  _

When Brienne only offered a defeated stare, Sansa sighed and tilted her head. “This would also appease the West. They’re the only kingdom proving problematic right now. Set your terms with Ser Jaime, but demand that if he doesn’t agree to them, you will maintain your betrothal to Jon. Ser Jaime will be as much a political pawn as I was when betrothed to Joffrey and later married off to Tyrion. You have the power here; not him. Whatever you think he’s trying to gain from this is irrelevant, because we are here to support you. We will not let him or anyone else hurt you.”

Brienne moved towards a chair at the table and sat down. Leaning on her elbow, Brienne rested her forehead against the palm of her hand.

“I would rather a loveless marriage to a man who expresses his disgust for me openly, then a marriage to a man who pretends at love, only to long for his own sister. How do you even know that this isn’t an attempt on his part to save Cersei? To help her reclaim the throne?”

The Stark sisters glanced at one another before Sansa sat beside Brienne.

“I would not ask this of you if I thought that was the case. You might not see it, but we do. He loves you, Brienne. I’m not suggesting that you should forgive him now or ever, but the marriage would be what you make of it. Whatever  _ you _ wish it to be. The power is in your hands to determine if it is for show, or something more. I do believe that is better than a man who would treat you cruelly or try to use you for power.”

All Brienne heard was a request that she do her duty. That she cast aside her own feelings and needs for a man who abandoned her in the cruelest way. A man who lied about the extent of his responsibility to Cersei. The woman who he was to have another bastard with.

_ I suppose my happiness matters little compared to keeping peace. I just need to keep my mouth shut and smile, even if I’m drowning in tears internally. _

Refusing to look at either sister, Brienne agreed. “Fine. I’ll offer him my terms.”

Standing to leave, Brienne felt a warm hand on her forearm. “I believe him, Brienne. He didn’t need to speak the words aloud for them to exist in his eyes. He loves you.”

“He loves the opportunity to exploit my weakness and save the only woman who matters to him. I’ll not let it happen.”

Brienne left the room and heard Pod fall into step behind her. She prayed to the Seven that Pod didn’t ask any questions for which she had no answers. Arriving at her room, Brienne sat in silence for an hour as she considered the best approach. Brienne’s greatest fear was being around Jaime.

He had an effect on her that was troubling. Being around Jaime made her feel vulnerable and exposed. It was imperative that she do a better job of guarding her heart. At Winterfell, Brienne regretted how weak Jaime made her. She had failed Sansa and everyone who had fought for their cause.

Brienne would rather live a life without love than lose control of herself again. The fragments of her heart were too broken to piece back together, and Brienne knew what she had to do. It would hurt more than anything, but it was the only way to live with some semblance of self-respect. 

Walking to Jaime’s room, Brienne heard Pod mutter at her back.

_ He thinks I’m pathetic too. Weak and desperate. This is the reaction that I fear from those who know of my previous failing with Jaime. _

Unable to look at her friend and newly anointed knight, Brienne steeled herself as she reached Jaime’s room and knocked. The door opened and Brienne made it a point to look past Jaime rather than at him.

“I’m here to offer terms.”

Jaime stepped aside to allow Brienne access. When she heard the door shut behind her, Brienne took a deep breath and fixed her gaze at the window.

“I will agree to break the betrothal to Jon and wed you, but it will be a political marriage. We will have adjoining, though separate rooms as many couples do, and we will not share a bed. You can lay with whoever you like, but I cannot allow Cersei from the cells. She is too much of a threat to the realm.”

Jaime stammered and tried to interrupt, but Brienne kept speaking; seemingly unaware of his despair.

“I will legitimize your child with Cersei. He or she will be named heir to Casterly Rock. The babe that I carry will be a Tarth. The realm will have the heir they demand which will spare us the pressure of undesired beddings. Those are my terms. If you cannot accept them, I will maintain my betrothal to Jon.”

Brienne could feel Jaime’s presence at her side. When he reached for her, Brienne flinched away. She reminded herself not to give in. Her love for Jaime was a weakness that he could exploit to aid Cersei’s cause. The harsh reality that she was not someone whose love could ever be requited, weighed heavy on Brienne.

_ Uglier in daylight. Beast of a woman. Not Cersei.  _

Jaime’s voice was despairing at her side. “I will never lay with another woman, Brienne.”

_ Of course not. You wouldn’t commit the mistake of betraying Cersei again. _

“Well that is your choice. I know how proud you were of remaining faithful to Cersei throughout life, and I apologize for having impeded that when wine, hurt, and desperation drove you to my bed. Do you accept the terms, or shall I continue my plans with Jon?”

There was a coldness to her tone that did not match her heart. Brienne wanted for nothing more than to sink into Jaime’s arms and cry. To beg him to offer any piece of himself, and she would take it without question. She had done that at Winterfell however, and was met with a retreating horse.

Swallowing down the pain, Brienne lifted her eyes. Jaime was staring at the floor with furrowed brows. His head shook slightly in response and he seemed to struggle with something.

“I accept your terms, but I do not accept your disbelief in my feelings for you.”

Meeting Brienne’s eyes, Jaime’s face was filled with pain. “Do you believe why I killed Aerys?”

_ Aerys? What? _

“Yes. I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

“Do you believe that I rang the bells and tried to have my men lead as many as possible to safety?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the question. “Yes.”

“Then why don’t you believe that I came here to kill Cersei!? How can you believe me about the rest of it, but not that?”

Brienne felt her composure slipping. It vexed her that Jaime would leverage the heroic deeds she lauded him for to distort the truth of his actions for Cersei.

Meeting Jaime’s eyes, Brienne spoke in feigned curiosity. “Were you in love with Aerys?”

“What!? No!”

Brienne raised a challenging brow and asked another question. “Were you in love with any of the citizens in the city whose lives you saved?”

“No. What are you on about, Brienne?”

“You did your duty as a knight by killing Aerys and saving the innocent. There was no love driving you. For Cersei, you are driven by love; not duty. Isn’t that what has always driven you to act  _ for Cersei _ ? Duty would have seen you break from her after she blew up the Sept, but you didn’t. Why?”

Jaime’s face fell at the words. “Because I was weak. I didn’t love her anymore, but I didn’t know how to leave.”

_ Weak. Weak as I am for you. Because of love. _

“I find the best way to leave is to walk away. I think you stayed not because you didn’t know how to leave, but because you still love her. Perhaps you hate that love, and you wish to deny it because it seems like it will somehow hurt less.”

Brienne took pause. The words exposed her own feelings for Jaime as much as they conveyed her belief behind his actions. Before he could reply, she continued.

“You said that we don’t get to choose who we love. Stop lying to me to protect your sister. I understand why you’re doing this. There is nothing more hateful than failing to protect the ones you love. I can’t save her for you, Jaime! Pretending at wanting a life with me will not grant her freedom. I have a duty to the realm to protect the people and maintain peace. It is for that duty alone that I agree to wed you. If I had a true say in this and could follow my heart, I would not marry you. I don’t want to live in the shadow of your sister, whose bed you crawled into just weeks before riding north. Clearly you still loved her if you lay with her.”

Jaime grabbed Brienne’s arm; his eyes wild with desperation. “I didn’t love her when I slept with her!”

Shoving Jaime’s hand off her arm, Brienne straightened to full height. “Trust me, I’m more than aware that you’re capable of bedding a woman you don’t love, but in the case of Cersei, I don’t believe you.”

Brienne marched towards the door and grabbed the handle. Before she could open it, Jaime had pushed his hand and body weight against it.

“Don’t say that!” Jaime’s right arm looped around Brienne’s waist as he pressed close to her side. His left hand came to Brienne’s jaw as he pressed his nose into her cheek. The weight of him pushed Brienne from the door as Jaime clung to her. They stumbled backwards and Jaime gripped her body as though a raft in turbulent seas.

“I was desperately clinging to old feelings when I last lay with Cersei. I was confused and lost, but I did not love her. If I loved her, I would have left Winterfell after the dead fell. I love you, Brienne. I went north for you, and I returned south for you. I refused Cersei when she tried to lay with me before our capture. I told her that I was with you.”

Jaime’s effort to sway Brienne back to his side hurt more than anything. Actions were what mattered most, and Jaime’s actions contradicted his words.

_ Words are wind. My father taught me to look at a man’s actions for truth. Septa Roelle told me that a man will lie, but my truth is in the mirror. _

Brienne considered Jaime’s actions. He stayed at Cersei’s side after she blew up the Sept. He bedded his sister not long before moving north. He abandoned Brienne to return south. He spent weeks in hiding with Cersei.

It seemed too convenient that he sent a letter when he did. After weeks in hiding, rumors swirled in the city of the former queen’s presence in the Crownlands. The twins likely realized they were identified and needed a new strategy to ensure Cersei lived long enough to reclaim her crown.

Brienne believed that the twins meant to take advantage of her weakness for Jaime. That she would allow him back with open arms and do whatever Jaime asked. She was all that stood in their way of reclaiming the throne.

Bran had warned Brienne to beware the lion with a dagger. It seemed she was looking at one now.

_ I’m nothing to him. No one wanted me before they found out my lineage. Sansa had the right of it. My babe and I are vulnerable now. I need to appease the West. I need to keep my enemies close. I need to cast aside my happiness to protect my babe and the Kingdoms. _

At war with herself, Brienne grimaced. Jaime’s proximity disoriented her, and Brienne’s traitorous heart implored her to accept the lie. To live in blissful ignorance of his true intent. The emotional pain hurt more than any wound in battle. Willing herself to be strong and guard her heart, Brienne shoved Jaime away.

“My terms are final. I’ll not be made your gullible whore twice.”

Jaime’s face sank at the words. Exhaling audibly, he shrugged. “Can I spend time with you at least? Just a meal here or there. A chance to right the wrongs I did.”

“I will think on it. Goodbye Ser Jaime.”

This time when Brienne moved to the door, she was not met with resistance. The parting words that fell from her lips took Brienne back to Harrenhal, except this time, it was Brienne walking out the door. Somehow, this goodbye hurt more. They would be together, yet apart.

Pod’s worried expression made Brienne wonder at how much he might have overheard. Putting on the poised mask she learned on Tarth and perfected under Sansa’s tutelage, Brienne raised her chin and retreated to her room.

“I’m just going to rest for a bit, Pod. If Lady Sansa comes by, please inform her that I’ll be by later to discuss the remaining matters that Ser Jaime interrupted.”

With a nod of understanding, Pod followed Brienne back to her room. The walk seemed to go on forever as Brienne struggled to maintain her composure. Once she reached her room and moved inside, Brienne let her emotions wash over her. She sunk to the floor and shed silent tears. Her hands balled into fists at the realization that she would spend a lifetime wed to a man who she could never have. The only man she truly loved.

She would watch him mourn Cersei for a time, and then likely take others to bed while she lay alone next door. All she was destined to receive were mocking eyes and cruel words. Trying to calm her spiraling emotions, Brienne reminded herself of the only truth in her life.

_ I can never be loved, but I can protect. That is my duty. My happiness in that duty is inconsequential. _


	13. The Kingslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed since the betrothal between Jaime and Brienne. Desperate for her time, Jaime tries a new approach.

When Brienne left the room, Jaime felt nothing but despair and loss. He had hoped that sharing the truth of his reason for leaving would be enough. That his declaration of love would be well received. It occurred to Jaime that he had been too successful in breaking Brienne’s heart at Winterfell. Her heart and any affections for him seemed in disrepair.

Jaime wanted to scream. He cursed the day he first lay with Cersei. Were it not for the swell at Cersei’s belly, her body would be decaying below brick rather than occupying a cell. Even in breaking from Cersei, her claws would not free from his skin.

At Winterfell, Jaime feared not being good enough for Brienne. Worse now was knowing that Brienne no longer trusted him. The terms that Brienne set cut deeply. He had spent most of his life watching Cersei lay with another while he stood in the shadows. It seemed he was forever destined to play the role of pining onlooker, desperate to receive any scraps of affection thrown his way.

Jaime sought out Tyrion for advice, but his brother was nowhere to be found. The next week was more of the same. Brienne refused to meet with him, and Tyrion had little time to offer advice. It felt as though Jaime’s presence was more of a nuisance than that of the betrothed to a queen.

The morning marking the first week since their betrothal, Jaime’s desperation reached new heights. He decided to wait in the courtyard and follow Brienne’s daily escort into the city. While he had never seen her depart, Jaime knew that Brienne visited the people every day to ensure all were provided for.

Before the sun rose, Jaime sat outside the Keep and waited. If it took all day, Jaime resolved that he would wait until he saw Brienne. Jaime did not need to wait long. As the sun came up, the courtyard came to life. The Hound, Ser Pod, and Ser Balon walked into the courtyard with a dozen Gold Cloaks at their backs.

It was the Hound who snorted and shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

Years of enduring the Hound’s less than sunny disposition caused a flood of memories to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. “Perhaps you haven’t heard, but I’m to be consort to the Queen. I suppose you’re fated to guard Lannisters your entire life.”

“ _ Our _ Queen is remaining a Tarth.” Pod’s curt reply caught Jaime by surprise. A mocking laugh from the Hound quickly followed and raised Jaime’s ire.

Jaime played at indifference, but the wound was still too raw. Before he could reply, Brienne exited the Keep. Jaime’s eyes roamed her body as she moved down the steps. Her long legs were well framed by grey breeches. There was still no swell at her belly, but given she was only three and a half-moons, Jaime didn’t expect it.

Her breasts had filled out even more over the past week. The blue tunic covered by a rose doublet hugged Brienne’s body. Curves were emerging on Brienne’s lean form. Jaime loved her body either way; with or without child.

With child, her body seemed softer and more curvaceous. Her face seemed to glow, and her hair fell loosely at her face.

Brienne was deep in conversation with Sansa, but she faltered when her eyes landed on Jaime. “What are you doing here?”

Pod’s voice dripped with disdain as his eyes remained fixed on Jaime. “We were just asking Ser Jaime that.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the courtyard as the Queensguard, Sansa, Brienne, and the Gold Cloaks stared at him expectantly.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.” At Brienne’s curt reply, all those assembled moved forward to their horses and the wagons containing food and supplies.

Moving quickly to Brienne’s side, Jaime tried a different approach. “How am I to make a useful consort if you don’t let me? It’s my duty to give aid in the city.”

Brienne huffed and muttered to herself before looking at Jaime. “Suit yourself.”

A victorious smile stretched across his face. One of the stable boys returned with another horse for Jaime, and the group soon set off into the city after Brienne and Sansa finished speaking. The younger woman remained behind tending to matters with the small council.

Riding into the city, Jaime took in the destruction. While King’s Landing was starting to rebuild, the living conditions were alarming. Families had been displaced and taken to living on the streets. Men, women, and children bore wounds reflecting the horrors they endured.

Jaime’s stomach dropped at the sight. He had heard Tyrion and Sansa voice concern over Brienne’s daily trips into the city, but Jaime could understand Brienne’s compulsion. The people were still suffering over a moon turn after blood and fire came to King’s Landing. Jaime feared what it must have looked like in the days immediately following the siege.

_ My sister and Daenerys did this. Their madness brought blood, fire, and death to King’s Landing. _

From accounts of those at the Keep, stores of wildfire caches had caught when dragonfire met the city streets. The heat burned so strong that it ignited the jars of wildfire below. Many of the Lannister soldiers were able to get people out, but not nearly enough.

In some sections they rode through, there were still half-charred bodies in areas that the living dared not wonder. When at last they reached their destination, Jaime saw a line stretching down to the mud gates. Citizens weary and demoralized stood awaiting the wagons of food brought from the Keep.

The process seemed well-organized. There were tables setup for distribution as the Gold Cloaks, Queensguard, and Brienne began handing out food to the war-ravaged people. Jaime joined their effort in silence as people approached in an orderly fashion.

It was overwhelming to see the scars and downtrodden expressions on those moving through the line. Not surprisingly, the people smiled gratefully at their queen. Brienne was humble as ever and only sought to see the people tended to. She always offered acknowledgement to those preparing the food and supplying resources daily.

Brienne appeared to have learned the names of many who approached. Jaime was shocked at how she recalled their personal stories. Each individual seemed to have a special relationship with their queen, and no one rushed through the line once they stood before her. 

It was both shocking and impressive to see a noblewoman so willingly mingling with the masses and remembering their personal woes. A young child grabbed Brienne’s hand and guided her down the line to meet her new little brother. The sight of Brienne speaking with the mother and holding the newborn babe took Jaime’s breath away.

The two women carried on unaware of Jaime’s attention from a distance. Brienne bounced the babe lightly in her arm as a small hand gripped her finger. A vision of Brienne holding their babe flashed in Jaime’s mind.

A hushed voice broke Jaime from his revere. “Mum. It’s the Kingslayer.”

Glancing to his left, Jaime observed an older child of around ten pointing at him. The boy’s eyes went wide as his eyes landed on Jaime’s false hand.

_ Seven hells. _

The mother locked eyes with Jaime before bending down to hush her son. As she nudged the young boy along, Jaime braced himself for the judgement in her eyes.

_ No wonder Brienne didn’t wish for me to join them. Mayhaps I should leave. _

As the mother and son moved down the line, Jaime averted his eyes and handed them the package of bread from the wagon at his back.

“Sorry, m’lord. The queen told us not to use your old nickname. She make sure all know ya a good man. Me son didn’t mean no offense.”

Glancing at the woman, Jaime shook his head slightly. “It’s fine. I’m used to the name.”

He was surprised at the warmth in her eyes. When he traveled into the city in years past, he was always met with looks of disdain.

“She said ya rung the bells. Is it true?”

Nodding in affirmation, Jaime raised a brow in surprise. His eyes darted to Brienne who was still deep in conversation with the woman just a ways off.

The mother smiled widely and nodded. “Thank ya. Ya men got us out. Only me husband didn’t make it. He was in the market.” Her face fell slightly at the words, but she forced an appreciative smile before pushing her son forward. At her side, the boy called out to another small group of children just behind them in line.

“It is him! I told ya.”

A slight frenzy began to spread down the line. Jaime cursed inwardly at the disorder his presence caused. He could hear his moniker making its way down the line. Panicking slightly at the realization that he was doing more harm than good, Jaime backed away.

Looking to one of the Gold Cloaks, he suggested the man take his spot. The Hound grumbled in protest just two men down at Jaime’s right.

“Always causing a fucking scene. I told the little wolf not to tell them that story.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. Handing a package to the Gold Cloak, a young girl called out as she leaned over the table. “Is it true!? Did you stop Aerys from using wildfire on the city?”

A small group of children gathered at her back; all craning their necks to look at him. The eyes of the adults in line landed on Jaime as if awaiting an answer. Jaime’s pulse quickened at the mention of the very siege that earned him the title.

As before, he nodded in affirmation. “It was a longtime ago. Nothing so special.”

The children gasped excitedly as another boy shouted to him. “Did a bear really eat your hand!?”

Jaime snorted at the question, but he could hardly suppress the smile spreading across his face. “No. That would have made for a much better story though.”

“But you saved the queen though? From the bear?”

Once more the Hound groaned in distaste. “Fuckin Arya. Never shuts up.”

Biting back a laugh, Jaime shrugged slightly. He was about to reply with a quip, but when his eyes looked to Brienne his mouth clamped shut. She was aware of the commotion Jaime was causing and slowly gave the babe back to the woman; a warm smile on her face. As Brienne moved away from the line, Jaime thought better of his response as he looked back at the young girl.

“In truth, the queen saved me.”

Jaime followed the Queensguard’s pursuit of Brienne while the Gold Cloaks continued distributing the food and supplies. Rounding a corner, Jaime saw Brienne had entered a building that had been converted to an orphanage. He moved inside next to Ser Balon and inquired what Brienne was doing.

The seasoned knight raised a brow at Jaime as though the scene before him was common occurrence. “Her grace plays with the kids for a bit before we head back. They quite like her.”

Jaime leaned against the wall and watched as the children clamored around Brienne. They eagerly showed her their toys and asked to play knights with her. She held one of the younger tots in her arms as the children guided her towards the center of the room to play monsters-and-maidens.

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he watched on. He remembered Tyrion enjoying the game as a young boy at the Rock. It wasn’t long before some of the children from the food line returned. The same little girl who asked questions about the bear tugged at his arm.

“The Kingslayer is here! He can be one of the monsters with us!”

It was strange hearing his moniker spoken without disdain. When he saw Sandor roll his eyes, Jaime raised a brow in jest. “Come on then. You’ll make a pretty maiden.”

“Fuck off.”

At the Hound’s words, Brienne chastised him. “Ser Sandor! The children don’t need to hear that filth.”

The Hound grimaced at the title and Jaime could barely contain the laughter pushing past his lips. Tyrion had told Jaime with great amusement how Brienne insisted on knighting Sandor if he was to be in the Queensguard.

After originally refusing and telling Brienne to piss off, the Hound relented. From what Tyrion observed, Sandor was fond of Brienne. She was the only one who could call him ‘Ser Sandor’ and get away with it. The thought of it brought Jaime endless amusement.

As the children dragged Jaime forward to stand beside Brienne, his mirth faded. Brienne suddenly looked uneasy, but she forced a smile as she glanced back to the children.

“The Queen can be a maiden and the Kingslayer can be a monster! You have to chase the maiden, Ser Jaime!”

Brienne’s face flamed at the words and Jaime felt a deep guilt wash over him. He hadn’t thought twice about taking her maidenhead at Winterfell, and the consequences of his lust were soon to show.

“I know better than to chase that maiden. She can beat me up.”

The children laughed as they began to run. Jaime joined the boys who had been assigned the role of monster while the maidens ran around the room. The orphanage staff looked exhausted just watching the energetic children crash into beds and supplies, but they said nothing of it.

With nearly all the maidens caught, Jaime saw Brienne easily outrunning the boys who were giving her chase. They laughed loudly with every failed attempt to catch her. She was too quick, but Jaime knew he could get to her.

Jaime moved quickly across the room, but Brienne saw him coming just in time to jump away. His arm missed by inches at the game of chase. Jaime pivoted quickly and moved after her. The children cackled as he failed to catch her several more times.

_ Gods she’s fast. Is there anything she can’t beat me at? _

As Brienne darted away quickly and spun to avoid some of the boys playing at monster, Jaime saw his chance. He wrapped a firm arm around Brienne’s waist and hoisted her off the ground, much to the delight of the children.

Putting her down, they both stood panting as the children circled around them laughing. Jaime leaned in with his arm still tightly around her waist. The proximity was dizzying as Jaime took in the scent of her. With his lips pressed to her ear, Jaime whispered and smiled.

“I’ll never stop chasing after you.”

Brienne’s cheeks pinked as she turned her attention back to the children. After spending a bit more time at the orphanage and reading to the children, Brienne stepped outside with the Queensguard and Jaime at her heels.

Expecting her to return to the horses, Jaime was surprised when she began to walk towards the docks. The Queensguard seemed unsurprised by her movements and followed closely. Pod walked close at Brienne’s side and prattled on; chipper as ever with his Lady Knight and Queen.

Jaime grumbled as a slight jealousy took hold. While Pod was like a son to Brienne, Jaime felt bitterness that Pod was afforded what he wasn’t. Keeping pace beside the Hound and Ser Balon, Jaime watched as the people smiled and bowed at the Queen when she passed.

As with the distribution line, Brienne returned the smile and called out to many by name.

_ How the hells does she remember them all? I get confused trying to recall all my cousins’ names. _

They soon arrived at the docks and Jaime watched as Brienne came to a stop. She looked to the seas and scanned the area. Whatever she was searching for was soon found. A wide smile spread across her face.

Squinting into the distance, Jaime struggled to find what her eyes landed on. All he observed were a few passing ships coming in and out of the Blackwater. Tentatively approaching Brienne, Jaime looked to her in question.

“What are we doing?”

Brienne glanced briefly to Jaime; her answer short and devoid of warmth. “ _ I _ am waiting for someone.”

“Who?”

With a deep sigh, Brienne kept her eyes fixed on the sea. “My father.”

_ Oh fuck. _

“I did not realize he was visiting.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Brienne spoke sarcastically at Jaime’s side. “Apologies. I had not thought to seek your approval where it concerned  _ my _ father.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just…” Jaime glanced to the Queensguard at their back. Pod was the only one who remained at Brienne’s side. Lowering his voice for Brienne’s ears only, Jaime spoke in hushed tones.

“…I would appreciate any time you can afford me. I miss you.”

For a moment, Jaime saw pain in her eyes. Her jaw clenched as she composed herself. “Odd. I recall being told that I’m as boring as I am ugly. I imagine that makes me the most boring woman in all of Westeros.”

Jaime closed his eyes as his body sagged. The memory of his cruelty in the Riverlands came back to haunt him once more.

With a deep sigh, Jaime glanced at Brienne. Her eyes remained set on the incoming ship, but there was now a deeper pain there. It seemed that Brienne was lost in hurtful memories, and Jaime hated how many emotional wounds he inflicted in their early acquaintance.

“I never apologized for that. I said a lot of horrible things to you then, but I didn’t mean them.”

Shaking her head slightly, Brienne disagreed. “You were honest then. I preferred that.”

“I was a bitter idiot then. Well… I suppose I’m still an idiot. Soon you’ll be married to an idiot…” Jaime chuckled nervously, but Brienne did not return the laughter.

Jaime’s heart sank. The indifference Brienne showed him hurt more than her wrath. “Do you want me to leave?”

Brienne shrugged as though it mattered little. “Do as you please.”

“Then I’ll stay. Being with you pleases me, even if you hate me.”

Brienne swallowed thickly at the words. She shook her head slightly before speaking in hushed tones. “I don’t hate you. You’re a good man, even if you don’t see it.”

A warmth spread through Jaime at the words. Leaning in slightly, Jaime replied in kind. “Well I love you, even if you don’t see it.”

Brienne flinched, but she said nothing. Thinking it best to keep his mouth shut, Jaime watched as the ship bearing the Tarth sigil approached. When the ship docked, Jaime observed the crew prepare the gangway.

Stepping off the ship deck and striding confidently down the docks, a man who could be none other than Selwyn Tarth made his way from the ship and towards them.

_ Seven hells. He’s bigger than the Mountain. _

Glancing back at the Hound, Jaime noted the disgruntled knight’s shock at the man moving quickly towards Brienne. Selwyn had broad shoulders and sparkling blue eyes. His hair and beard matched the color of Brienne’s hair, but his skin was much tanner and weathered.

A slight smirk pulled at his lips as he appraised his daughter. Raising a teasing brow, Selwyn huffed a laugh. “ _ Your Grace _ .”

Brienne snorted and shook her head. “Do shut up.”

A loud, rumbling laugh escaped Selwyn’s lips. He extended his arms widely as Brienne dove into his embrace. His booming voice carried over the port. “Look at you! My favorite Tarth.”

“I’m the only other Tarth.”

The words reminded Jaime of what was to come. There would be another Tarth soon enough, and Selwyn might well have Jaime’s balls when he found out. Stepping back from the embrace, Brienne held her father’s stare.

“So. Who are these lads following you around?”

Turning to Pod, Brienne extended her hand. “This is Ser Podrick Payne. He was my squire, but now he is a member of the Queensguard.”

Selwyn smiled widely at Pod and nodded. “Well met! Good lad.”

Pointing back at Ser Balon and the Hound, Brienne continued. “Two other members of the Queensguard; Ser Balon Swann and Ser Sandor Clegane”

Selwyn guffawed. “Balon! Good. A proper Stormlander to guard your back. And  _ Ser Sandor _ ? The Hound that I know would never allow such a thing.”

Sandor huffed and pointed to his ear. “Last time I tried to tell her off, I lost an ear. She can call me whatever she likes.”

Selwyn chuckled and raised a brow at Brienne. The words were a shock to Jaime. He had not heard of any altercation between the pair.

As Selwyn’s laughter died, he looked to Jaime. “And this one? Another Queensguard? Seems he left his armor at the Keep.”

Brienne’s face fell slightly and she began to fidget with her jerkin. “This is Ser Jaime Lannister. My… betrothed.”

Jaime smiled widely and straightened to full height which was still easily a head shorter than Selwyn. Any mirth on the older lord’s face died at the introduction. For the first time that day, his moniker was spoken as it always had been. Disdain.

“Kingslayer.”


	14. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn and Brienne have a little chat.

“I asked you not to call him ‘Kingslayer’ and it was the first thing out of your mouth!” Brienne glared at her father as he waved her off dismissively.

The older lord sat in the chair by the window. Streaks of sunlight poured in and reflected off his blonde hair. They had arrived at the Keep only moments earlier, and Brienne immediately dragged her father into the study.

Sitting down in a huff across from him, Brienne crossed her arms and scowled like a petulant child. Selwyn smirked at her exasperation. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he appraised her.

“Oh, my apologies, sweetling. I could have sworn that I told you of the Kingslayer when you were but a girl playing at knight. You can imagine my surprise when your missive arrived detailing your betrothal to him. I must have erred in neglecting to tell you how he killed his king. Minor details really.”

_ This man. He and Tyrion would make fine friends. _

“You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t know. Your judgement of Ser Jaime is lacking context.”

Selwyn snorted; his head tilting backwards slightly. “Did his blade  _ not _ push through his king’s back?”

A protective instinct bubbled in Brienne’s core. While Jaime would never return her feelings, she couldn’t snuff out her love for him as though it was little more than a flickering flame. His honor was one of many things that she loved about him. He was a good man.

“You know better than anyone what Aerys was. He was the madness that we were sworn to protect Westeros from. I will not divulge the truth of that day. It is Ser Jaime’s story to tell. I stand by his reasons, however. He is just as much a protector as us.”

Any amusement on Selwyn’s face dropped. With a deep breath, he leaned back in the chair and ran a massive hand down his face.

“Fine. I’ll be nicer to the boy. Still, I hardly see why that requires you to wed him. Is there a shortage of available men your age possessing qualities befitting a husband? Preferably one who doesn’t fuck his own sister. He’s what? Forty to your five and twenty? His bastards were closer to your age than he is.”

Brienne’s mouth gaped in disbelief. “Truly, father? You once betrothed me to a man older than you! Ser Jaime is nine and thirty. Marriages have been made on far greater age differences than that.”

“Then why him? Even if I grant him the Aerys debacle which is quite a thing to grant someone, why not another man?”

Confusion lined Selwyn’s face. While Brienne had reason to deny Jaime, her father hardly knew of the issues between them. It struck her as odd that he would care so much to cast aside a man willing to wed her. For years Selwyn had tried to find her a match. None would have her.

_ He knows what I am. He knows what a miracle it is that anyone would agree to wed me. Why is he arguing the point? _

Brienne took a steadying breath and looked away. “Wearing the crown doesn’t change how I look, Father. Lady Sansa believes that suitors would only seek to gain power through me. She believes it is best that I wed someone trusted who has no desire for the crown nor desire to harm me..”

Pain spread across Selwyn’s face as he took in the words. It had been a concern he shared when all Brienne had to offer was Tarth. The concern was made clearer by Ser Humfrey’s harshness towards Brienne.

“I heard unsavory rumors on Tarth, Brienne. I had not wished to repeat such filth, but some years ago, rumors swirled that named you the Kingslayer’s Whore. I never had the strength to ask you of it in letters.”

Brienne felt her stomach drop. The nickname bestowed on her by Bolton’s men had followed Brienne for some time after the Riverlands. She thought to have shaken its false assignment, but then she truly became Jaime’s whore.

Ignoring the more recent truths to the name, Brienne met her father’s eyes. “The men who sent you that ransom letter called me that. They held Ser Jaime and I captive and took to tying us together on a horse during the journey to Harrenhal. It started as a jape. They called us ‘the lovers’. I think they meant it more as offense to him, much like the boys called me ‘Brienne the Beauty’.”

Selwyn sucked in a sharp breath at the admission. “Did they dishonor you, child?”

“No. Ser Jaime saved me from rape and lost his hand for it. His lie to save me was the reason your ransom was rejected. He told the men that if they returned me to you, unbesmirched, that you would pay my weight in sapphires. He said the gem is in abundance on Tarth; the Sapphire Isle.”

The older lord smirked at the words before his face set into a grim line. “I suppose I truly have to be nice to him now. Gods dammit. How did you escape them?”

Brienne took a deep breath and told her father of it all. She told him of the oath to Lady Catelyn, Harrenhal, the sword, and the amor. She told him of Jaime’s aid at Riverrun, her knighting at Winterfell, and the battle with the dead.

When she was done, Selwyn sat in stunned silence. Shaking his head slightly, Selwyn struggled to give voice to the thought swirling in his mind. Then he found his voice.

“You’re in love with him.”

The accusation left Brienne winded. It reminded her of Cersei’s accusation many years ago. Even if everyone saw it, no one gave it a name. Not even Brienne. It stung to hear the harsh truth spoken aloud. Fidgeting with the hem of her jerkin, Brienne tried to ignore Selwyn’s appraising eyes.

“Does he love you?”

Brienne could feel tears pooling. She didn’t want her father to see her weak and pathetic. Unable to meet his eyes, Brienne shared the painful truth.

“As much as Renly returned my love.”

Selwyn groaned in despair. From the corner of her eye, Brienne saw her father’s body sag. She knew the truth would come out soon enough and Brienne needed him to hear it from her.

“There is something else, Father. I… I’m pregnant with his babe.”

The air seemed to leave the room at the confession. Brienne felt her heart hammering in her chest, as her eyes bore a hole into the table before her. She had never felt so small and ashamed.

Selwyn stood from his chair and began pacing wildly. The older lord muttered to himself, but he did not address Brienne.

“Gods damn… willful child… kill that  _ boy… _ ”

Risking a glance at her father, Brienne saw the rage on his face. Her chin trembled slightly at the disappointment she had caused him. Her whorish behavior brought shame to their House.

“I’m sorry, father. I… I don’t have a proper excuse for my behavior.”

“So  _ this _ is why you marry him? To cover up the mistake.” Selwyn’s tone was harsh, but he did not yell. It somehow felt worse than him raging.

“No. I marry him for duty. If I had it my way, I would rather be alone.”

Selwyn moved back to the table and looked down at Brienne. “What did you say? For duty?”

“The West is the only kingdom proving problematic. Initially, they thought Ser Jaime dead in the siege. There were rumors of Cersei’s survival and… pregnancy.”

Selwyn placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. He spoke questioningly through gritted teeth. “Pregnancy?”

“Yes, we have her in the black cells. She is just over six moons pregnant.”

The anger radiating off Selwyn was palpable. “Let me guess. The Kingslayer is the father.”

Nodding slowly, Brienne sucked in a sharp breath. “He fled south to save her. To help her escape the Dragon Queen.”

Brienne told her of Jaime’s words in the courtyard. His confession of sins and reason for them. Cersei.

Grabbing the chair to his side, Selwyn threw it across the room. The seat broke on impact; pieces of wood scattering along the wall.

“You will not marry this boy!”

Summoning all remaining courage in her, Brienne stood from her chair. She tilted her head up to meet her father’s rage-filled eyes. “I must.”

Selwyn’s eyes went wide at her words. He growled and slammed his fist into the table. “No!”

“I have to! Sansa believes that this will assuage the West. I need to ensure Ser Jaime doesn’t try to aid Cersei once more. I need to marry for the babe as well. To protect him or her from power-hungry suitors. Ser Jaime doesn't’ want the crown.”

Rounding the desk, Selwyn grabbed Brienne’s arms. His eyes were desperate as he looked at her. “Fuck the West and fuck House Lannister! This is not your burden to bear. I will not let you suffer in a marriage to a man who would dishonor you and flee to his sister. Is he to hold both babes in his arms while standing at your side!? I’ll not see him make a mockery of my daughter.”

“My desires matter little. It is my duty to protect the kingdoms and that is what I will do. I know what I am, and I know the truth of where his heart lies. I won’t make the same mistake twice. This is to be a political marriage, which is still better than anything I could have hoped for. Perhaps in the next lifetime, the gods will take pity on me and grant me something more.”

Selwyn shook his head; a stubborn set to his features. “You deserve more than you know. You’ll need to find another husband. Your betrothed is about to die.”

Without another word, Selwyn stormed from the room. Brienne slouched into the chair and buried her face in her hands. Giving voice to the painful truths of her unrequited love had been like tearing out the stitches of a yet healed wound. Her heart was bleeding anew, and Brienne cursed her unlovable self for putting her in such a position. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

The door to the study opened slowly to reveal Grey Worm. His head tilted slightly as he appraised Brienne.

“You alright? You father look angry.”

Brienne huffed a small laugh and nodded. “I’m alright. Thank you. It would be a bit of an understatement to say he’s disappointed in me.”

The Lord Commander of Brienne’s Queensguard stepped into the room. His brows furrowed as he took in Brienne’s words.

“Disappoint? You? You great warrior and Queen.”

Offering a small smile, Brienne met Grey Worm’s eyes. “That’s quite kind, but as a daughter, I’ve failed him. I didn’t follow Westerosi customs.”

Grey Worm stepped closer until he was standing before her. “What custom?”

Offering Grey Worm a seat, Brienne sighed deeply. “In Westeros, noblewomen are expected to remain maidens until they wed. As you know, that is hardly the case with me.”

“Maiden? What this?”

Brienne felt her face flush at the word. She considered the Valyrian translation and spoke at length to help Grey Worm understand what Westeros expected of her. When she finished, he scoffed.

“This is stupid custom. You love Ser Jaime like I love Missandei. Why not share love?”

A small smile stretched across Brienne’s face. “I wish everyone in Westeros shared your opinion, but sadly, they do not. They would brand me a whore if they knew. Besides, you and Missandei loved each other. My feelings for Ser Jaime were never returned. It feels quite foolish to think on it now; how I let myself think it was possible to offer my heart and not have it thrown in my face.”

“This is more stupid than maiden. I don’t like Tyrion brother, but I see he love you. I see it at Winterfell. It’s in his eyes.” Grey Worm tapped near his eye with a finger.

_ Gods. Not Grey Worm too. Exhausting. _

“Ser Jaime and I share a complicated history, but it was never love on his part. I think he cares for me as a friend and respects me as a soldier, but he told me the truth of his feelings before leaving. He loves his sister.”

Grey Worm’s head shook in refute as his brows furrowed. “I capture them at Rosby and they not stop fighting the whole way here. Not until he tell her about you. How he love you. That shut her up. My head was happy. She has annoying voice.”

Brienne snorted and bit back a laugh. Her lips tugged into a smile as she shook her head. At her reaction, Grey Worm smiled too.

“You have pretty smile. Should smile more.”

The words startled Brienne. Aside from comments of her skill as a soldier, no one had ever complimented her on a physical attribute other than her eyes. Not even Jaime. Swallowing thickly, Brienne smiled; her eyes watering slightly.

“You’re too kind.” Brienne’s hand came to rest on Grey Worm’s arm. The more time she spent with him, the more she appreciated the man and could see why he was named Commander of the Unsullied.

While his skill was among the best she had seen, he was also kind, intelligent, and forthcoming. He didn’t speak for personal gain, and Brienne appreciated that. It was that fact alone that allowed Brienne to believe his compliment, even if she disagreed.

As they stood to leave, Brienne considered him. “What is your real name? I’m sorry that I didn’t even think to ask before. Your men always called you Grey Worm.”

The commander smiled widely and nodded. “Torgo Nudho.”

“Do you prefer that? May I call you that?”

An even wider smile spread across his face as he nodded. “Yes. I like that.”

As they stepped outside, Brienne observed Ser Boros standing against the opposite wall. His nose was bandaged from Jaime’s previous assault. Despite that, the knight’s disposition was unaffected. He smiled and nodded at the Queen’s exit from the room.

“Your grace. I fear for whoever your father is storming after.”

Brienne raised an amused brow. “Your former brother of the Kingsguard. I do hope Ser Jaime is not unarmed.”

A most pleased expression spread across Ser Boros’ face. “Good. Mayhaps we’ll look similar by the day’s end. His face could use a bit of humbling.”

Biting back a laugh, Brienne wondered to what extent her Father may let Jaime have it. She hoped he wouldn’t be too harsh, but from personal experience, Brienne knew that was asking a lot. While Selwyn never struck Brienne, he did add some extra force to his blows during training when she had been particularly defiant that day.

As they made their way through the Keep, Arya approached with a smug expression on her face. The young Wolf had her hands clasped behind her back and a youthful bounce to her step.

“There you are. Your guests have arrived.”

_ Oh gods. Not the West. _


	15. The Reprimand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few people have words with Jaime.

After returning to the Keep, Sansa pulled Jaime aside. They made their way to his room in silence as the young Wolf seemed to mull something over. As they stepped inside, Sansa took a steadying breath and turned to face him.

“I’ve been corresponding with your aunt. It seems you neglected to mention your survival to her.”

Jaime rolled his eyes at the mention of Genna. “Yes, well, I’ve been a bit distracted.”

“I took the liberty of informing her on a number of matters. She was particularly displeased at your willingness to hold the West accountable for Cersei’s actions in the form of repayment to the Iron Bank. When I last heard from her, she was preparing to move east for a  _ visit _ .”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He tilted his head in question and eyes narrowed. “My aunt is coming here? When?”

With a small shrug, Sansa spoke as though the matter inconsequential. “According to our scouts… any moment now.”

Panic surged through Jaime. His aunt was not a woman to be trifled with, and he had neglected to inform her of a few facts; namely his betrothal to Brienne, and getting her with child.

_ Fucking hells. I’m responsible for two pregnant women. One in the black cells and one wearing a crown. _

Reaching for a chair, Jaime sat down and leaned over the table. He buried his head in his arms and muttered a string of obscenities. At the other end of the room, Sansa spoke once more.

“There is also the matter of the wedding to consider. Brienne refuses a crowd. She wants something small at the royal sept with as few witnesses as possible.”

Bitterness crept into Jaime’s tone as he spoke more into the table than at Sansa. “Yes, of course. I would hate for more people to know of our marriage than necessary.”

“Don’t you dare complain about this!” Sansa’s tone caught Jaime by surprise. He looked up to meet her vexed gaze. Sansa walked slowly towards him with an accusatory finger pointed directly at his head.

“You spat filth and abandoned my friend in the middle of the night. You weren’t there to see how broken she was and still is. You weren’t there to see her put on her armor every day while pretending all was well, only to hear her cry alone at night. Because of you, she names herself a pregnant whore. Because of you, she believes her earliest lessons in life, that she is undesirable and unlovable, are true. You did that. Don’t you dare snivel over her preferring a small crowd of witnesses, when she believes this is a marriage born out of political duty. She thinks she will be mocked for marrying a man who chooses her second; to his own sister mind you. Sadly, she fears that less than the thought of you being mocked for marrying her.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack. His words had aimed to wound, but only to ensure her safety. It was not Jaime’s intention to hurt her so deeply. In truth, he did not think that Brienne felt for him as deeply as he felt for her. They had never spoken words of love at Winterfell. While the fact had saddened Jaime, it worked to his advantage when he left.

“I was only trying to keep her safe.”

Sansa snorted and shook her head. “Well congratulations. She is physically safe. Unfortunately, she is emotionally destroyed.”

Jaime felt like a chastised child. He glanced away, tapping the wooden table with his fingers.

“I don’t choose her second. I love her.”

“I’m quite aware, but it isn’t me questioning the fact. Idiot.” Sansa huffed. She moved to speak again, but a loud knock came at the door.

For a moment, Jaime worried it might be Genna. He was certainly not in the mood to deal with her on top of Sansa berating him. Moving to the door, Jaime sighed and braced himself for what was to greet him.

As the door pulled back, Jaime’s brows rose in surprise. “Oh. Lord Selw…”

Before Jaime could finish speaking, he was met with a hard punch to the face. The room spun around Jaime and he fell to the floor. Blood began to fall from his nose and on instinct, Jaime’s right arm moved to stem the bleeding. Sansa screamed and retreated backwards. Without a moment to recover, Jaime felt Selwyn grab him by the jerkin. The massive lord hauled Jaime to his feet with little effort.

Raising his fist once more, Selwyn’s face was the picture of fury. Jaime braced for impact and squeezed his eyes shut. At his back, Sansa’s voice called out.

“Lord Selwyn! Stop!”

Opening his eyes slightly, Jaime observed the exchange between the pair. Selwyn growled in rage as he looked to Sansa. “Stop? You know what this miserable shit has done to my daughter?”

“I do. Just let me explain.” 

Selwyn shoved Jaime hard into the table. Looking at Sansa expectantly, Selwyn extended his long arms. “And…”

“He’s an idiot.”

_ That’s it. That is her defense of me. Wonderful. She certainly did spend much time around my father and sister. _

Selwyn snorted at the words. “Good. We’re aligned. I’m going to kill him now.”

“He’s an idiot, but he loves your daughter. You know how Brienne is. Her self-worth could not be in starker contrast to her confidence on the battlefield.”

Selwyn’s eyes narrowed. “From what I have heard, he most certainly does  _ not _ love my daughter. No man who loves a woman would treat her in such a disgusting way.”

Grimacing at the words, Jaime sighed and wiped at the blood flowing from his nose. “I lied to her.”

Selwyn turned to appraise Jaime; his eyes filled with hate. Glancing to the floor in shame, Jaime continued. “I didn’t know how else to keep her safe, so I lied to her and said terrible things.”

Jaime felt Selwyn’s presence hovering over him. The older lord snarled as Jaime took a step backwards.

“All her life, Brienne has been mocked. Men use cutting words to belittle her. They think that because she has a warrior’s body, she is somehow less of a woman deserving of respect and decency. Anyone who bothers to know my daughter, would see that she has the Maiden’s heart. She loves with all of herself to the point where there is nothing left to foster self-love. I saw her spirit dying from within as she grew on Tarth.”

Taking a menacing step forward, Jaime saw anger and pain tug at Selwyn’s features. The older lord took a deep breath and continued before Jaime had a moment to fully digest his words.

“When Brienne’s second betrothed insulted her before the entire court at Tarth, I gave her a silly phrase thinking it might help the emotional wounds too deep to stitch up. I told her that ‘words are wind’. A man may spout whatever nonsense his brain finds most suiting at the time, but the truth is in the action. Well  _ your _ actions have spoken as loud as your words.”

Selwyn’s fists balled at his sides and Jaime feared they may soon meet his face again. Glaring at Jaime, Selwyn leaned close; unbridled fury danced in his eyes.

“You said cruel things to my daughter, and then you backed them up with cruel action. You left her dishonored and alone. You treated her as a whore and tried to flee in the night.  _ For Cersei _ .”

Jaime felt his body go stiff. His lies came back to haunt him in the worst ways. Looking into Selwyn’s eyes, Jaime realized he may never have a chance with Brienne for a true marriage. Even if Brienne somehow forgave him, Selwyn might tear him apart piece by piece.

Collecting himself, Jaime tried to apologize and explain his actions, but Selwyn rounded on Sansa.

“And you.”

At the mention, Sansa’s eyes snapped to attention. Her lips parted slightly, but before words could spill out, Selwyn continued his tirade.

“In my daughter’s letters, she noted you and that squire of hers as the only friends she has in this world. What kind of  _ friend _ would convince my duty-driven daughter that it is her responsibility to marry a man who treats her like mud on his boot? I don’t give a shit if the West rebels. I don’t give a shit if they take their damn Lannister twins and form a new kingdom built on the back of incest. Let them have it. They deserve no better than this fool and that monster in your cells. I will not see my daughter made to feel that she is only worthy of his abuse.”

It was the first time that Jaime had ever seen Sansa speechless. The young woman’s eyes went wide as she stammered at the lord before her. Moving past Sansa, Selwyn approached the door to leave. It was then that Sansa found her words.

“You’re wrong.”

At Sansa’s defiant tone, Selwyn’s hand paused in midair as it reached for the door. His eyes narrowed as he glanced back at Sansa.

“Yes, I encouraged her to make the match because of contrived duty. Like you however, I don’t care if the West breaks off from the rest of the kingdoms and drowns in the sea. House Lannister destroyed mine. I have little desire to see them pandered to.”

The anger in Sansa’s voice was palpable as she held Selwyn’s eyes. Taking a step forward, she continued speaking at the older lord.

“I used that reasoning because Brienne is too stubborn and broken to hear anything contradicting her false truths. I don’t agree with his words and actions, but this fool…” Sansa cast an accusatory finger at Jaime while continuing to stare at Selwyn. “… loves your daughter and came south to kill Cersei. He only stopped when he noted the swell at her belly. He has been trying to express his love to Brienne since then. I would never encourage the match otherwise. She was happy at Winterfell. In the years she served me, she never truly smiled. Not until Ser Jaime.”

Selwyn’s brows furrowed at the words. He turned to face Sansa fully and raised a challenging brow.

“The swell at Cersei’s belly... that  _ he _ put there. Cersei is what? Pregnant a couple of moon turns longer than my daughter. That would require that this man was still warming his own sister’s bed not long before dishonoring my daughter. But… Brienne smiled at the dolt, so that means he’s good for her? My daughter loved a gay man once too. Should she have married him?”

Without another word, Selwyn grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. The startled face of Brienne greeted him on the other side; her fist raised as though poised to knock. As Brienne’s eyes darted around the room questioningly, she looked to Selwyn.

“What’s going on?”

A portly woman pushed past Brienne into the room. Arya was soon to follow as the Queensguard stood outside. “Where is he!? I wish to see my troublesome nephew who can’t even bother to...”

At the sight of Jaime, Genna gasped. “By the gods! What happened to your face?”

“It fell into an island.” At Jaime’s sarcastic words, Genna’s brows furrowed.

Taking in the state of Jaime, Arya chuckled and quickly covered her mouth. Jaime glared at the young wolf who could barely contain her amusement.

Rounding on Sansa and Selwyn, Genna spoke accusingly. “Is my nephew being abused?”

“No more than my daughter! Who are you?”

“I’m Lady Genna Lannister! Castellan of Casterly Rock.”

“Lady Genna  _ Frey _ … to be clear.” Sansa raised a challenging brow at Genna. The exchange made Jaime snicker slightly, earning him an unimpressed glare from Genna.

With a huff, Genna appraised Selwyn. Pointing at Sansa, she spoke to the older lord who stood huffing in rage. “You don’t strike me as this one’s father and I know that you can’t be. Your head looks ready to pop, but it's still attached.”

Jaime cringed at the words. His aunt could be unnecessarily blunt and harsh when upset. Casting an apologetic glance to Sansa, Jaime tried to intercede, but it was Brienne who spoke first. Her voice shook with rage as she glared at Genna.

“Shall I raise the tax penalty more than the currently contested amount!? What your kin did to Lord Stark was reprehensible and I will not hear such tasteless japes in this Keep.”

Genns stepped back as if slapped; the response drawing an amused snort from Selwyn. 

“And you!” Brienne turned her attention to her father. “You will not assault anyone in this Keep, particularly your to be goodson. You will apologize or we’ll deal with the offense in proper Tarth fashion.”

Selwyn’s jaw dropped, but he quickly collected him. With a clenched jaw and huff of annoyance, Selywn’s eyes narrowed at Jaime. “Apologies for the  _ greeting _ .”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at Brienne’s forcefulness. The sight of her righteous rage went straight to his cock. Was he not one misstep away from joining Cersei in the cells, Jaime would have cleared the room to bed his betrothed. 

“To be goodson?” Genna startled at the words. She glanced frantically between Jaime and Brienne; her eyes asking the question yet to spill from her lips. 

Selwyn took a step forward and captured Genna’s attention. “I’m Lord Selwyn Tarth. Father of the Queen, who your nephew here dishonored. Dishonored and put a babe in her belly! I suppose her babe and Cersei’s babe can have little family gatherings. They’ll be cousins  _ and _ half-siblings. How very fucking lovely. This betrothal is  _ not _ happening.”

Genna’s jaw practically reached the floor at the onslaught of information. At Selwyn’s side, Brienne cringed. It was as though she meant to cut her height in half as she moved slowly behind the wall that was his frame.

“Jaime Lannister!” Genna rounded on Jaime and punched him hard in the arm. “By the gods! Tell me this isn’t true!”

_ Great. A third person to thrash me about. _

Unable to tolerate his aunt’s judgmental eyes, Jaime looked away. She could always read him like a book. Trying to hide something from Genna was as effective as trying to get Cersei to abdicate peacefully. Jaime could feel Genna’s disappointment in him.

So lost in his scolding from Sansa, Selwyn, and Genna, Jaime had not noticed the two other men slip through the door.

“Ha! Gods cuz. You’re truly fucked now.”

Jaime’s eyes snapped up to meet the amused expression of his cousin, Daven Lannister, and his childhood friend, Addam Marbrand. The two knights stood smugly in the doorway chuckling at his expense.

Genna snapped at the pair; her head tilting just enough to see them from the corner of her eyes. “Shut up! Out with you both! I need to speak with my nephew.”

Knowing not to mess with Genna, Addam and Daven quickly fled the room. Following suit, Sansa moved towards the door and grabbed Arya’s arm. “Lets go.”

The young wolf tugged free; her eyes locked Jaime. “No way. I want to see this.”

“Now, Arya!” Sansa pulled harder and Brienne moved to join them. 

_ Traitors. Abandoning me in a time of crisis. This woman is more dangerous than Selwyn. _

“Father.” Brienne looked to Selwyn imploringly, but the older lord stood his ground.

“No. I’ll have words with the boy and his keeper.”

Brienne grimaced as she met Jaime’s eyes. she mouthed an apology before leaving the room. The door closed firmly at her back, and the tension in the room intensified. Genna turned to Selwyn and inclined her head. “Rest assured, I’ll deal with my nephew. I wish to speak with him privately.”

“And I wish to ensure we are aligned in that he will  _ not _ wed my daughter.”

Genna snorted and turned to face Selwyn fully. “I don’t believe any of us in this room have the right to make that decision. If you wish to see the betrothal broken, I suggest you go speak with your daughter. This boy owes me an explanation.”

“Then I shall hear the explanation too.” Without awaiting Genna’s agreement, Selwyn helped himself to a chair and glared at Jaime.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Genna turned back to Jaime and barked at him to sit down. Jaime did as Genna bid him and stared at the floor. He could hear Genna pulling up a chair in a scene that felt all too familiar to his childhood reprimands. The first words out of Genna’s mouth hardly surprised Jaime.

“Eyes to me, Jaime! I want to see the truth of this.”

Raising his eyes to meet Genna’s, Jaime could already feel the lump forming in his throat. Everything seemed to hit him at once. The awful, hurtful things he said to Brienne. Realizing Cersei was in fact pregnant. Being rejected by Brienne upon his return. Hearing of how deeply he hurt her.

Genna raised a knowing brow. “Calm down. I’ve not even asked my questions yet. Compose yourself.”

She knew that Jaime was the most sensitive of his siblings. Her handling of him was always more delicate, though equally stern, compared to how she dealt with Cersei and Tyrion. When Joanna died, Genna took on the role of mother to them, and Jaime loved her dearly.

“Tell me from the beginning what happened.”

Jaime’s eyes darted down as he began to speak, but Genna scolded him once more. “Eyes up!”

Looking at Genna, Jaime told the truth of it.

“Cersei went mad. I should have left sooner, but I… I was afraid and confused. I know that you’re aware of  _ things _ …”

Jaime let the implication hang between them. With a heavy sigh, Genna nodded. “Too aware for any aunt’s liking. Go on.”

“I began to see through Cersei’s manipulation and I refused her. Over several moons, I only laid with her once; a moon turn before I left to go north. She told me she was with child, but I didn’t believe her. I’m still not convinced, but she is rather pregnant…”

Jaime grimaced. While much of his family knew of his twisted relationship with Cersei, only Tyrion ever spoke of it aloud. Jaime never discussed it with his aunt, and it was embarrassing to do so with Selwyn in the room.

“I committed treason to go north and fight against the dead.”

Genna cocked her head. “I heard. Why? Seems foolish to go alone into the enemy encampment. That bloody Dragon Queen killed many from our army on the goldroad! I’m surprised they didn’t kill you! You murdered her father, and our House destroyed House Stark.”

“I went north for Brienne. I couldn’t let her face death alone.” Jaime’s eyes darted to Selwyn. He was listening with rapt interest at the end of the table.

“Typical. Honestly Jaime, you need to find a healthier way to express your love than charging straight at the Stranger himself. Addam told me of Brienne when we heard you rode north. I had assumed it was for a woman, and only Brienne came to his mind. Is she the one you lost the hand for?”

Jaime nodded in affirmation as he held Genna’s eyes. Shaking her head, Genna continued her line of questioning.

“Then what?”

“We won. I didn’t expect to survive, but I did.” Jaime raised his false hand in explanation of his presumed outcome. “Then I couldn’t bring myself to leave her. I wanted to stay with Brienne, so I did. I dishonored her though.”

Jaime grimaced at the words. He could hear Selwyn grumbling from down the table. With a disappointed scoff, Genna crossed her arms.

“You should have brought her to a sept. Why did you leave her then?”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime continued as he looked into Genna’s eyes. “I was afraid to tell her how I felt. She deserves better than me. I’ve done too many horrible things and she is… perfect. A missive arrived from the south a moon turn later. Cersei’s forces killed one of Daenerys's dragons and captured her friend and advisor. Cersei was winning, and I thought that I was the only one who could get close enough to stop her. If she found out about Brienne…”

The hypothetical situation was difficult to think on and Jaime cringed at the thought. 

Genna sighed and nodded, patting Jaime’s arm lightly. “Yes, I know. Our Queen’s head would be in the sea… or worse.”

“So, I… I left Brienne. I was afraid she would follow me south if I was honest with her. It’s just her way. She tries to protect everyone. I said horrible things. I told her everything that I did for Cersei. I let her think that I was returning for Cersei. She begged me to stay and I left her there.”

Jaime felt guilt crash into him like waves into shore. Sparing a glance at Selwyn, Jaime could see the anger in the older lord’s eyes. Sitting before him, Genna grunted in irritation.

“Why not leave her a letter you dolt!? Why not tell one of her friends just in case? What if you died and she thought you loved Cersei instead of her? What if something happened to our queen or the babe!?”

At Genna’s tirade, Jaime felt frustration set in. “I didn’t think! I’m an idiot, remember? I didn’t know she was pregnant though.”

Sitting back in her chair once more, Genna narrowed her eyes at Jaime. “You are not an idiot, Jaime. You even managed to outsmart your brother during the war. I’m still miffed that you so easily offered up the Rock in your ploy, but I’ll admit, it was smart. I did have to stay with the gods damned Sarsfields for a fortnight though! You still owe me for that.”

Jaime smirked as he met Genna’s eyes. A fond smile stretched across his aunt’s face as she patted his cheek. “You may make stupid decisions at times, but you’re not an idiot. Lying to Brienne was a horrible decision. She is a grown woman and can make her own choices. If she wished to follow you, so be it. You owed her that much.”

Selwyn hummed in agreement from down the table. He rolled his eyes and he muttered to himself. Capturing Jaime’s attention, Genna questioned Jaime once more.

“What happened when you got here? Everyone thought you dead after the siege.”

Jaime explained what happened when he was captured. How he allowed Tyrion to incorrectly judge his motives. How he planned to kill Cersei, but he couldn’t when he saw the swell at her belly. Jaime explained they fled, but he couldn’t get far on account of his injuries.

Genna gasped at the information of his near fatal wounds at the hands of the Mountain. “Seven help me! You nearly got yourself killed! You’re lucky the Hound was there. You should have let Cersei figure it out herself! She’s a woman grown just like Brienne, and she put herself in the position to begin with!”

“Daenerys would have killed her even after seeing her pregnant! She must have noticed that Cersei was pregnant  _ before _ the siege, and yet she still tried to topple the bloody Keep.”

Rubbing her forehead, Genna grumbled and considered it all. “And now? You told Brienne the truth of it all?”

Jaime snorted. “I tried. She won’t speak with me. From the limited time she has afforded me, she refuses to hear it. She hates me.”

“Well isn’t that what you intended!? Gods, Jaime. What do you expect!? Why the hells is she agreeing to marry you then?”

“Exactly!” Selwyn barked from down the table. Genna waved at him dismissively before turning her attention back to Jaime.

“She wasn’t going to at first. I asked her to marry me and I tried to tell her how I felt, but she dismissed me. The Stark sisters convinced her; for the babe and for Westeros. They told Brienne that the West will likely rebel, but if she weds me, it would appease our  _ delightful _ kingdom. Then Brienne named her terms.” Bitterness dripped from Jaime’s tone as he spoke.

“So, she does this for duty? The poor thing.” Genna seemed displeased at the situation. Her face appeared weary as she considered it all.

“Thanks. Glad to know that I have your support.”

Genna tilted her head and appraised Jaime. “What are her terms?”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime met Genna’s eyes. It hurt to think about the conversation from a week prior. “She said it will be a political marriage only. We will keep separate rooms and we will never share a bed. The babe will be a Tarth. And… we can lay with others.”

If anyone understood how much the terms would hurt Jaime, it was his aunt. Jaime had never been allowed to claim a child. Never allowed to share a bed. Unable to love publicly. He had to watch from afar as Cersei lay with her drunken husband. He heard how she used her body to get what she wanted from others; all while Jaime remained faithful.

Jaime looked away as he felt the tears well at the back of his eyes. Warm hands came to his face, forcing his eyes to Genna. With a heavy sigh, Genna’s features were full of sympathy.

“Oh, Jaime. How long? How many years have you loved her?”

Genna’s face blurred as tears flooded his eyes. Jaime tried to feign nonchalance in his answer, but the attempt was weak. “Few years.”

Genna’s thumbs stroked his cheeks. It reminded Jaime too much of Brienne’s gesture at Winterfell. The thought of leaving her in the cold, dark courtyard broke him. That night, he had to appear strong. He needed to seem indifferent and callous. It wasn’t until he got far enough away that the tears fell.

Now as he sat before Genna, tears spilled over the edges of his eyes. The tears’ departure afforded temporary clarity of Genna’s sympathetic expression before him.

“Jaime. You have to know that she might never forgive you. That is her right. Will you still want to be in this marriage knowing that is a possibility?”

The answer was simple. Jaime would try to make it up to Brienne every day until the day he died. Even if she never forgave him, his love for her would not subside, and he wanted for no other. “Yes.”

Genna’s face fell at the words. She knew how dedicated and loyal Jaime was when in love. Standing from her chair, Genna wrapped her arms around Jaime.

“Alright. It’s up to Brienne then. Have you been annoying her, boy? You can be terribly exasperating when you want something.”

Jaime chuckled against Genna’s belly. She always had a way of making him laugh when he was hurting.

“She won’t give me a chance to be annoying. She’s quite familiar with it though. I tried to drive her mad in the Riverlands. I think she would agree that I was truly insufferable about it.”

“Yes. That sounds like my Jaime.”

Pulling back from the embrace, Genna wiped at Jaime’s tears. “Stop that now. What if your father were here?”

They both chuckled as Jaime did his best Tywin impression. “Stop being disappointing, Jamie. Lannister men don’t feel. Go marry someone powerful and make heirs.”

Genna guffawed. “Well I suppose you listened a bit. Of course you’d fall in love with another Queen.”

Jaime rolled his eyes at the words. He didn’t think of Brienne as a sovereign. She was the same kind, loyal, dutiful, and just knight that he loved with every fiber of his being. It seemed to Jaime that she wanted to rule as much as he wanted for anyone other than her.

Kissing the top of Jaime’s head, Genna turned to Selwyn. “Now, you! You’ve had your go at my nephew. I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, but you let the children figure this out. You put hands on my nephew again, and I’ll put hands on you.”

Genna marched towards the door and yelled back at Jaime. “I’ll come collect you for supper. You and that wretched brother of yours. I’m to have words with him.”

_ Great. A Lannister family dinner. _

Risking a glance at Selwyn, Jaime was surprised at the uncertainty on the older lord’s face. His eyes darted to Jaime and a strange expression flashed across Selwyn’s features. He seemed to be mulling something over, but Selwyn did not get a chance to contemplate it further before Genna began ordering him about.

“Come on then! Since you insist on trailing me about, let's go speak to that daughter of yours. Time is wasting, man!”

Selwyn’s eyes went wide in shock at Genna’s demanding tone. “Trailing!? I was here first!” Standing with a grunt, Selwyn muttered as he left the room. “Gods damned Lannisters.” 


	16. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne speaks with Selwyn and Genna. They share surprising opinions, but things move along.

_ Brienne heard a babe crying from down a darkened pathway. Stumbling forward, her hand reached out as though searching for clarity. “Hello? Is everyone alright?” _

_ The babe cried louder and drove Brienne forward at a faster rate. “I’m coming little one! Don’t cry!” _

_ A light in the distance began to guide the way forward. Brienne quickly realized that she was outside. It was cold and snowy, but she had to find the babe. A strong cramp made Brienne take pause. Looking down, she saw the large swell at her belly. _

_ The sight shocked Brienne as she hadn’t thought to be so far along. Another scream from a babe quickened Brienne’s pace. She felt desperate to get to the babe and provide protection. A vicious breeze cut through the trees and sent a chill down her spine. _

_ More cramps plagued Brienne as she grabbed the swell at her belly. When she stepped into the clearing, Brienne’s breath caught. She was in the courtyard at Winterfell as a light snow fell. Jaime’s back was to her and he appeared to be looking down at something. _

_ “Jaime.” _

_ A dainty hand reached around to Jaime’s back. He bent down in what appeared to be a passionate kiss, but Brienne couldn’t see who was before him. _

_ As Jaime turned to face her, Brienne saw Cersei holding a babe in her arms. A knowing smirk tugged at Cersei’s lips as she appraised Brienne. _

_ “Look, Jaime. The cow has come to see us off. I told you how pathetic and in love with you she was.” _

_ Jaime huffed a laugh and looked to Brienne with disgust. “What do you want?” _

_ “I heard a babe crying and came to help. I thought… I thought you loved me?” _

_ Jaime and Cersei looked to one another and laughed. As he looked back, Jaime’s eyes were bleeding. His hand twitched over the dagger at his hips. “How could I ever love you? No one loves you. My love is for Cersei. It has always been for Cersei.” _

_ Without another word, their small family left the courtyard together. More cramping gripped Brienne’s body and she dropped to her knees. _

_ “Wait. Please. Please help me. Something is wrong.” _

_ Jaime’s voice was distant as Brienne struggled to see them. “Call the stable master. I’m sure he has delivered all manner of animals before.” _

Brienne awoke in a sweat. Reaching for her face, Brienne realized she had been crying in sleep. It had been a day since the West arrived at the Keep. Selwyn and Genna sought out Brienne after speaking with Jaime, but she was occupied in a meeting.

While there was much to accomplish in King’s Landing, Brienne needed to consider the rest of the kingdoms. She decided to form a special council with representation from each kingdom. 

The council would give voice to each region and ensure all had a seat at the table. It was important to Brienne that every kingdom had their needs considered and voice heard.

Brienne sent missives to the ruling families seeking a delegate; someone to speak on their behalf. Each delegate was requested to journey to King’s Landing for their first summit which would take place in a moon turn.

Most summits would likely last a week or so, but the initial summit would require the delegate to stay in King’s Landing temporarily. There was much to address and much that Brienne sought to change. She wanted all kingdoms in agreement of her proposed changes.

Further, Brienne wanted each kingdom to see for themselves what the Dragon Queen and Cersei had done to the city. She hoped that if they saw the destruction, they would appeal to their liege lords and ladies for aid.

Placing a hand over her belly, Brienne calmed herself. A near imperceptible swell was beginning to form. Other than herself, no one would notice it. Her breeches were still well-fitted, and Sansa had helped make new clothing that would be more accommodating as her belly grew.

Brienne considered her dream. It was everything she feared and imagined would happen. Bran’s cryptic message of the lion with bleeding eyes and a dagger haunted her.

_ Jaime omitted details of Cersei’s pregnancy. He lied about his intention to stay with me in the North. He cast aside my offered love as though it was scraps from supper not befitting a hound. All for Cersei. The woman he rode south to save. The woman he loves with all of himself. The woman he will do anything for. What is lying to me compared to the more heinous deeds he has committed? _

More concerning of late were Arya’s findings. As expected, she was making an excellent Master of Whisperers. She moved nimbly through the city to hear rumors, understand sentiment, and identify threats. Further, Arya monitored all activity of staff at the Keep.

Arya observed staff who appeared to be loyalists to Cersei’s cause. It seemed the queen had been preparing for the possibility of imprisonment if captured. Five such loyalists were summarily  _ dealt with _ in a manner that Brienne had little desire to know of. The Stark sisters did not believe that Ser Jaime knew of these loyalists, but it did little to ease Brienne’s mind. 

A knock at the door shook Brienne from her spiraling thoughts. Standing from the bed, Brienne grabbed a pair of breeches before moving to the door. She was both surprised, yet not, to see her father and Genna at the other side.

_ Gods. Not now. _

“Finally. You’re awake. The sun is up, girl!” Selwyn invited himself inside with Genna close at his heels.

Sarcasm dripped in Brienne’s tone as she spoke. “Please, come in. Make yourselves comfort…”

Brienne cut herself off as she turned to see them taking seats in chairs at the corner table. With a heavy sigh, Brienne joined them. She crossed her arms as she sat down in a huff. Judging by the lighting outside, the sun had come up not even an hour ago. Her father had always been an early riser. It seemed Genna was no different.

“You didn’t come speak to me after supper as I requested.”

Brienne grumbled and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her father could be unbearable when something plagued him. “I was busy.”

Selwyn tilted his head in question. He could always see through her. In truth, Brienne hadn’t the strength to speak with anyone last night. She hid away in her room and wrote missives to the other kingdoms.

“We need to speak of this betrothal.”

_ Gods. Not this again. _

Surprisingly, it was Genna who spoke. “I can speak on behalf of every vassal in the West no more than any ruling lord or lady. Vassals rebel if they don’t agree with decisions. Just ask the West of House Reyne. Just ask your friend Sansa of House Bolton. You’ve seen your own kingdom. Most of you supported the younger Baratheon when Robert died. That said, I can tell you that neither Jaime nor I would seek to move against you. Do not marry my nephew because you fear the West will rebel. Anyone could rebel at any time, but it will not be on our order.”

Brienne took in the words. It struck her as odd that Genna would not wish to see the West in a position of power by way of Jaime becoming consort.

“So, you don’t think that I should marry Ser Jaime?”

Genna sighed and offered a small shrug. “I’m torn on it. As an aunt who wants to see her nephew happy, no. I do not wish to see the pair of you wed. It is in your right to never forgive him for what he has done. That said, if he spends the rest of his days chasing you around for whatever scraps of affection you may throw his way, that will hurt me. It is the part he has played for most of his life. It is not healthy.”

Brienne sagged at the words. For as much as Jaime’s words and actions left her heart in tatters, Brienne didn’t want to see him share in that heartache. Cersei was a cruel woman and didn’t deserve Jaime’s love. It hurt Brienne that someone so wonderful as Jaime was fated to love a heartless, narcissist who sought only power.

Leaning back slightly, Genna continued. “On the other hand, you are to have his babe. You and that child will be vulnerable. As absurd as it is, many in Westeros will not approve, or they may consider it a weakness that you are unwed with child. False suitors may seek your hand. Sansa had the right of it. Our sex is unfairly regarded in Westeros. I hope to see you change that. Being a knight, you’re already leading the way for change. Still, there is much to overcome. You should take a husband, and I know Jaime would be loyal to you and protect you. He loves you deeply and, I hope that despite your righteous anger, you love him too. Further, I want to see my great-niece or great-nephew loved and cared for. He would do that.”

Selwyn snorted at the words. A tense, wordless exchange transpired between the older pair which made Brienne shift in her seat uncomfortably. Glancing to her father, she appraised his posturing.

He seemed tense, but not angry as he had yesterday. There was something in his eyes that made Brienne hesitate; a concession almost.

“Father, do you think I need to marry?”

Selwyn exhaled audibly and buried his face in his hands. Frustration flashed in his eyes when he looked to her. “Loathe as I am to admit it, you should. You, the babe, and the crown will be safer that way. I would prefer you be happy in your marriage however.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Happiness in a marriage is not something we all have the luxury of.”

Genna snorted at the words. The response captured the attention of both Tarths as they looked to her perplexed. “What? You think I wanted to marry a Frey!? I’m a Lannister!”

Brienne studied the woman. There was a bluntness to her that Brienne appreciated. While Brienne was hesitant to trust Genna given her House, something deep within told Brienne that she could trust the older woman.

While Brienne knew it was common among noble marriages that most couples did not love each other, she had never encountered it so closely. Her parents wed for love. Catelyn Stark loved her husband fiercely; even in death. Those marriages were the examples she saw closest.

“Did you ever love before you wed Lord Emmon?”

Genna considered the question. A wistful look took hold of her features. “When I was young, I fancied someone. I had dreams of wedding him, but it was not to be. I was but a girl not even flowered when my father wed me to Emmon.”

Brienne’s curiosity was piqued at the admission. “Who?”

A sad smile stretched across Genna’s face. “Ser Brynden Tully. The Blackfish. Funny enough, that is how I came to participate in military matters of the West. I was desperate to get close to the Blackfish, even after I was wed off to Emmon. I saw the Blackfish often during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. He fought beside my brother. Ser Brynden was quite dashing. He had little desire to wed it seemed, and I learned a valuable lesson. Love is a want for a noblewoman; not a need. I pined from afar, but I suppose that pining was made easier as the Blackfish never wed. The thought of him with another would have hurt too much.”

Brienne nodded in understanding. It felt as though she would be destined to watch from afar as her love wanted for another. Something in Genna’s eyes appraised Brienne questioningly.

“If you marry my nephew, why do you seek an open marriage? Many nobles take others outside of the marital bed, but they never agree to it so openly, girl.”

Brienne looked to her lap. The terms hurt to think on, but it was as much to protect her heart as it was Jaime’s benefit.

“I’ll certainly not be the one taking advantage of it. I’m aware of what I am. Of what I look like. Fortunately, I’ll have the heir required of me, so the duty to lay with my husband is unnecessary. The West will have their heir as well. I know where his heart is, and I will not debase myself by allowing him into my bed when he pines for another. I hope in time, he can find a new love to make him happy. If I offer those terms now, it won’t force him to pretend at something he could never feel for me.”

The pain felt like a vice grip around Brienne’s heart. She understood Genna’s experience of pining after a man she could never have. Knowing she would spend her days watching Jaime long for Cersei hurt, but after her dream, she knew it necessary. Keeping him under watchful eye at the Keep until Cersei’s death would make that easier.

After Cersei’s death, Brienne would not stop Jaime from taking his chosen babe to the Rock. Just as Genna arrived in the capital without Emmon, Brienne would rule without Jaime at her side if he wished to leave. In name, she would be wed. It was as she always expected a marriage to be. Loneliness and cold indifference from her husband.

Genna’s brows furrowed as her eyes darted to Selwyn. The older lord grumbled and waved it off dismissively. “If that boy brings women to bed openly before your eyes, I’ll kill him.”

Before Genna could scold Selwyn, Brienne spoke angrily. “I set the terms, father! You will not touch him. It is easier on us both to be honest from the start. This is to be a political marriage. Nothing more. We’ll give Westeros the husband they wish to see. I’ll have security for the babe. The vassals of the West will have nothing to complain about, and they’ll get their perfect heir.”

There was a bitterness in Brienne’s tone that she could not mask. With a huff of annoyance, Selwyn stood abruptly. “So you’re going to do this then? You’re going to wed the man who put another bastard in his sister’s belly mere moon turns before putting a bastard in yours? A man who abandoned you to return south for his sister.”

Genna stood in response and jabbed a finger in Selwyn’s direction. “You forced your way into the room yesterday when I meant to speak in private with my nephew! You heard it all! You saw him break. Yes, he was wrong in it, but his heart was in the right place. Now it is broken just as your daughter’s is. He loves her!”

Selwyn grumbled and leaned against the table. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and spoke in a more subdued tone. “I do believe him, Brienne, but he strikes me as a very lost and confused man. I struggle as a father with this.” 

Opening his eyes, Selwyn looked to Brienne imploringly. “Sweetling, please. Reconsider this.”

“I have. It is best for everyone. I’ll do my duty. To be clear father, when I lay with Ser Jaime it was consensual. As much as my actions brought shame upon our House, I was not forced. I’m as much to blame for my situation. Do not hold that against him. I don’t.”

Shaking his head, Selwyn left the room in a huff. Brienne was surprised that Genna lingered. Glancing to the older woman, Brienne saw uncertainty in Genna’s eyes.

“I don’t think this is healthy for either of you. If you’ve both agreed to the terms, so be it. Would it have been me in your situation with the Blackfish being the man in question, I would have told him to fuck off. My nephew wronged you. He should have disclosed Cersei’s pregnancy, even if he doubted it was true. He shouldn’t have lied to you. He shouldn’t have dishonored you and abandoned you. My nephew has done terrible things for love and this is one such instance. I love Jaime deeply. He is like a son to me and he loves you with all of himself, but you shouldn’t wed him if you won’t give him a chance to right the wrong. Mark my words, you will both suffer in this.”

Genna left the room, leaving Brienne to herself. She considered their words for some time. Still, her resolve was strong. Until Cersei was executed, her dream was a harsh reminder of what his words and actions already confirmed. He would protect his love; Cersei.

At the Keep, Brienne, her guards, and the council could keep an eye on Jaime’s movements. Westeros would see her wed and carrying her husband’s babe. Any frustrations in the West at their loss of power in King’s Landing would be subdued. 

_ This is best for everyone. Everyone except me. That is more than a fair exchange. _

The next day, Brienne stood outside of the Royal Sept with her father at her side. His features were downtrodden as he looked to her.

“Please, Brienne. I don’t want to see you hurting.”

“I’ll hurt no matter what. This is best for everyone, including the babe.”

With a resigned sigh, Selwyn looked towards the sept doors. “Let's get this over with then.”

Entering the sept, Brienne tried to avoid looking at those assembled. She feared their judgement. From Jaime’s side, Addam, Daven, Genna, and Tyrion stood close together. Also in attendance, Sansa, Pod, Arya, and the rest of the Queensguard huddled close.

Standing by the Septon, Jaime looked handsome as ever. He looked the part of Lord of the Rock, and Brienne imagined that his aunt had something to do with that.

He wore dark brown breeches, a red leather jerkin, and a white tunic underneath. His hair was freshly cut and his face was clean shaven. Widow’s Wail was at his hip and his dagger at the other side. It was the sharp reminder of what this wedding was to him.

_ He’s here for Cersei. He’ll try to sway me to save her. He’ll try to protect her with everything he has. He is a protector above all other things. He’s a good man and loves deeply, but he loves a madwoman. _

For her part, Brienne wore her usual attire. Sansa had begged Brienne to wear a dress, but it felt too exposing. Brienne had tried to embrace her maidenly heart at Winterfell, but it was thrown back at her. She was a knight and protector as queen, but nothing more. To try and pretend at anything else felt too painful.

As much as Brienne longed to feel like a woman who was desired and loved, she knew it would never come to pass. Trying to embrace the woman within felt as realistic as expecting Renly to take pleasure in his marriage to a woman.

Sparing a quick glance at Jaime, Brienne could tell that he was nervous. Brienne imagined that this farce of a marriage would hurt him as much as it hurt her. His reputation would be in tatters for marrying such an ugly woman. To go from the most beautiful woman in Westeros to her.

It was likely that he feared Cersei finding out. Brienne imagined that Cersei would not be as forgiving for Jaime’s efforts to save her.

_ He probably feels this a betrayal of his love. I can’t imagine the mockery he’ll face, or the scorn from Cersei he’ll receive. In time, I hope he won’t grow to resent me for this. _

When she stepped before the Septon and Jaime, Brienne kept her eyes to the floor. The ceremony was a blur. Jaime kept shifting on his feet, and Brienne mused he was likely trying not flee.

Images of him retreating on horseback at Winterfell flooded her mind. They spoke their vows, but Brienne felt like she was outside her own body and looking on at the scene. She felt hollow and numb. Then she heard his words.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Jaime hesitated before her. It was as though he was in pain at the mere thought of kissing her; pained to speak falsely before the gods of love. Brienne felt her chin quiver as she glanced to the floor.

_ Gods. This is mortifying. He can’t even pretend to love me. _

Then Brienne felt his lips peck at her cheek. It hurt more than she imagined. Thinking back on Genna’s words, Brienne nearly whimpered at the accuracy of it.

_ ‘Mark my words, you will both suffer in this.’ _

Sansa had insisted on a feast afterwards, but Brienne wanted for nothing prolonging focus on her sham marriage. They moved as a group towards the hall where the small feast was to be served. Turning to her father, Brienne excused herself.

“I’m quite tired. I think I’ll go lay down instead. You all enjoy the feast.”

Overhearing the words, Sansa scoffed. “We can’t have a wedding feast without the bride.”

“Then have a supper instead. Please, I’m tired.”

Selwyn began to protest as well, but Jaime cut him off. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

_ Of course. He wishes to be at the feast as much as I do. _

As the group began to protest, Jaime quickly guided Brienne away and towards the room. The staff had prepared Jaime’s new room which was adjoining Brienne's. No one thought twice of the queen and her consort needing such an arrangement, but Brienne imagined the setup even more believable on account of her appearance.

They walked in silence towards her room with Ser Balon and Pod at their back. Approaching the queen’s chambers, Jaime spoke in hushed tones.

“Are you hungry? I can fetch you something from the kitchens.”

“No.”

After a slight pause, Jaime spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

Brienne hated the word. ‘Brienne the beauty’ they had called her. Somehow it stung more coming from Jaime. The wedding had been emotionally draining enough, but hearing him say such a thing felt like picking at old scars.

“We know what I look like. You needn’t speak falsely.”

Jaime’s mouth opened to reply, but he promptly closed it; pressing his lips together in a firm line. When they arrived at the door, Jaime moved inside without invitation.

“Your room is next door.”

Without responding, Jaime shut the door behind them as the Queensguard took their places against the opposite wall. The irritation on Pod’s face mirrored Brienne’s feelings.

Turning to face Jaime, Brienne was startled at his proximity. His arms wrapped around her waist as his lips pressed firm against hers.

The act was startling, and Brienne felt her knees buckle. Spinning them bodies, Jaime backed Brienne up against the door and pressed the length of his body against her. It felt achingly good to have Jaime’s lips on hers; his body so close. The scent of him invaded Brienne’s senses and made her feel weak.

Shaking the desire away, Brienne reminded herself what had happened the last time she let him in; the last time she let her guard down around him. Pushing his chest back, Brienne turned her head away.

“I said your room is next door.”

“This one suits me fine.” Jaime pushed firm against Brienne once more. His lips seeking hers.

She could feel his hardening cock against her pelvis and a flood of memories from Winterfell rushed to the forefront of her mind. Brienne’s body screamed at her to accept as much as Jaime would offer, but logic won out.

_ Don’t be weak. He doesn’t love me. He couldn’t even bring himself to kiss me before the witnesses at the sept. He seeks only to influence me. An act to save Cersei. _

Pushing him away again, Brienne looked away. “No.”

Jaime’s shoulders sagged at the words. Looking to the floor, he shook his head. “Apologies. I’ll leave you be.”

Without another word, Jaime left the room. The chambers suddenly felt colder; a reflection of how Brienne felt inside. Moving to the bed, Brienne curled up and willed herself to sleep. In just over three moons time, this suffering would end when Cersei birthed her babe and stood trial.


	17. The Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei has been in the cells for about 1.5 months. She awaits information and considers everything that is happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to get a double posting day going. I will likely get another chapter up midday assuming I can grab time to edit.

Cersei leaned against the wall and huffed in annoyance. The cell offered little more than a drafty chill and scurrying mice. Simmering rage was all that warmed Cersei as she stretched out her legs.

The swell of her belly was growing by the day. While Jaime thought her near eight moons with child, Cersei knew herself to be six and a half moons.

Jaime’s betrayal weighed on Cersei. The filth that poured from his lips as they rode towards the Keep some weeks ago haunted her dreams. On her worst days, Cersei cursed his name and thought of new ways to kill her traitorous brother.

_ I’ll feed him to lions like those we kept below the Rock. I’ll remove the rest of his limbs one by one. I’ll shove him down a well to see if he screams louder than Melara.  _

On her softer days afforded by her hormonal body, Cersei could almost make herself believe that Jaime only spoke the words in anger. She struggled to believe that her golden twin could bed such a pathetic creature as the crown-wearing cow.

_ He could never love her after loving me. I’m his mirror image. Golden and perfect. That beast is the one obsessed. Not my Jaime. _

At night, Cersei’s hand traveled down her smallclothes as she thought of her once golden twin. The Jaime that her mind conjured to bring herself to pleasure had two hands, confidence, and unwavering loyalty to her. She wondered if Jaime was secretly plotting to aid her escape and kill off the bloody cow.

The distant shuffle of feet alerted Cersei to Aemma’s approach. As she had planned many moons ago, Cersei’s spies and loyalists served her still. They had been prepared for this very scenario wherein she may be placed in confinement until the babe was birthed.

_ Here I thought the dragon queen would be my captor. Instead, that cow sullies my throne. _

Aemma Hill was one of Cersei’s loyalists. Originally from the West, the bastard girl had served Cersei for some years. She was highly trusted and had been supplying Cersei with updates on happenings in the Keep.

Some years ago, Cersei taught the girl to read and write so that she could best serve her. The young woman had been placed in the kitchens and put in charge of delivering meals to all prisoners.

The kitchens had always played host to staff gossip. Cersei recalled the behavior from her youth at the Rock. Whenever she wanted to hear the rumors at the Keep, she would hide in the shadows and listen to the staff as they gossiped like mother hens. King’s Landing had proven no different.

Everyone enjoyed standing around, snacking and gossiping. Early in her reign, Cersei knew to plant her most loyal spies there. Word was passed back to Cersei on a regular cadence and drove many of her decisions.

Fools that they were, the new regime allowed the castle staff to retain their positions where loyalties weren’t questioned. It seemed they hadn’t suspected Aemma. Cersei had invented a background story for the girl to make her seem less suspicious and not of the West. She gave her a new bastard name. Aemma Waters.

The earliest reports from Aemma were of Euron’s survival. He knew of Cersei’s babe,  _ their _ babe, and would return for them. Cersei had previously informed Euron of her loyalists placed throughout the Keep, though she dared not tell him who. There were ten in total, but five had mysteriously disappeared of late.

When Aemma brought word a moon turn ago of the cow’s marriage to Jaime, Cersei raged. When Aemma brought word two days prior of the cow’s swelling belly, Cersei broke down. Inwardly, Cersei had believed Sansa’s words were only meant to provoke, but she couldn’t give them credence. Cersei didn’t truly believe her brother could fuck the beast. 

Cersei screamed until her voice strained and left her. Guards thought Cersei was being murdered in her cell, but upon investigating, they believed the screams a mere reflection of her slipping grip on reality.

Something snapped in Cersei that day. A final string tethering her to this world. She felt adrift as though her mind was now another’s. Dreaming up all manner of revenge, Cersei’s mind was awhirl. She thought of schemes to reclaim the crown and dissect the cow piece by piece.

Aemma seemed more jittery than usual. The young spy suspected she was being followed on her daily rounds. She had taken to writing her updates on scraps of parchment rather than speaking aloud. In Aemma’s latest update, Euron had updated one of the loyalists.

The new Queen was forming a special council with a representative from each of the kingdoms. The envoy from the newest kingdom, the Iron Islands, had chosen to sail to King’s Landing. Knowing of the forming council, Euron and his remaining Ironborn intercepted the ship and killed everyone aboard.

Taking the place of Yara’s envoy, Euron’s spy would have access to the Queen and her plans. Meanwhile, Euron would sail to Braavos to treat with the Iron Bank. The new crown had been unable to pay back the debt. In exchange for a loan to raise a new army, Euron would guarantee immediate repayment within two moon turns of the loyalist’s victory.

The Iron Bank was not one to gamble. They would recognize Euron’s ability to win the war with a new army of sellswords rather than the new crown’s disheveled forces that had already endured the dead and a siege at King’s Landing.

Fortunately for Cersei, the new crown thought that she spent all available coin on the Golden Company. In truth, Cersei kept extra coin hidden away in the event she lost the war and needed to rebuild.

As a show of sincerity, Euron would use the excess funds that they kept hidden. The funds would pay off half the debt owed. It was not enough to raise a new army, but enough to demonstrate good faith to the Iron Bank.

_ Idiots. They all underestimated me, and it will cost them again. _

The cow’s forces were depleted, and the Dragon Queen’s armies were divided between staying and leaving. With few remaining to protect Westeros, Euron believed he could reclaim the throne with little effort. He and Cersei would rule together with their babe.

_ He better remember the elephants this time. We need elephants! _

Cersei hated the thought of sharing her throne and having a babe by Euron, but she had little option left. If she wished to play the game and escape confinement, she would need to feign at commitment to him. When the time came, she would kill him and rid herself of the imperfect babe.

The cell door creaked open to reveal Aemma. Stray light from the torch brightened the cell and Cersei’s eyes closed briefly in discomfort. With a wordless nod, the girl placed down the tray of food near Cersei before collecting the prior day’s missive from the piss-smelling straw to Cersei’s left. As quickly as she entered, Aemma was gone.

Cersei scrambled forward to devour the offered food. As the babe grew, her appetite grew with it. Having a loyalist in the kitchen worked to her advantage. Cersei maintained her strength and stamina despite the wretched conditions in the black cells.

There was a brief hour of the day when just enough light filtered through the stonework of the cell that Cersei could make out the scribbled words on paper. Leaning back against the wall with the paper held securely in her fist, Cersei waited.

When at last the hour came that she could see the parchment through the slightest cracks where light crept in, Cersei slunk lower in the cell to better see the note.

_ Your Grace, _

_ Euron’s envoy is to meet with the false queen today. Your brother and the false queen have yet to share a bed since they wed. They have connecting rooms, and the castle staff tend to both each day. _

_ They keep their distance from each other and, by my reports, neither look happy. _

_ We lost another loyalist at the Keep. Only four of us remain. _

_ Ella had worried that the younger Stark girl was following her closely for some days. Now Ella is missing. I may need to avoid daily updates until things settle down. _

Cersei cursed at the ever-shrinking pool of informants and loyalists. Then she thought about the rest of the letter. Considering the words, Cersei smirked.

_ The cow and my brother are miserable. Good. I wonder at it now. Perhaps he truly is loyal to me. He probably can’t get it up for that beast. _

Cersei’s mind began to wander. Her Jaime would remain loyal to her. It was likely he married the cow as a ploy. Jaime would save Cersei just as he saved her when the dragon queen attacked. Being Consort would afford Jaime power and access to resources that they would need.

At the thought of the cow’s hands down Jaime’s breeches, Cersei felt simultaneously amused at the cow’s clumsy, inexperienced hands, and enraged at the thought of the lumbering beast touching her twin. Her golden lion.

Cersei began to scream in between fits of laughter. So lost in her psychosis was Cersei that she didn’t hear the cell door creak open. Two confused guards looked on as their torchlight cast long shadows off the wall. At the sight of Cersei struggling for breath between laughter and screams, the guards looked on in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?”

The second guards huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Fuckin’ mad cunt. Bloody dragon queen was more sane than ‘er.”

Realizing the intrusion, Cersei lunged at the men, but the chains would only take her so far. Indignant rage coursed through her as she shouted at the men.

“I am your queen! You will bow to me! Respect me!”

The men only laughed harder. With a raised brow, one of the men spoke snidely. “I certainly ain’t gettin’ on me knees for ya. Don’t think no man would want to ya crazy bitch.”

Shutting the cell door firmly, the guards left Cersei alone once more. The sound of their retreating footsteps echoed off the walls. Their laughter only served to inflame Cersei’s fury.

_ I’ll kill them all. When I get out of here, all their heads will line the city gates. Jaime will come for me. Yes, that’s what he’ll do. Him and Euron. They’ll bring a new, stronger army than before. _


	18. The Special Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fortnight after their wedding, Jaime struggles to find time with Brienne.
> 
> There is a bit of NSFW at the beginning of this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting with the previous chapter ("The Whispers")

It had been a fortnight since Jaime wed Brienne; a fortnight since he kissed her. If he tried hard enough, Jaime could still feel the sensation of Brienne’s lips against his. Jaime tossed and turned in bed just before sunrise. He had been unable to find sleep that night just as he struggled so many nights prior.

Knowing Brienne was next door tormented him. The door connecting their rooms tortured him. He wanted for nothing more than to slip into Brienne’s bed and hold her close. The slight swell at her belly had been a much welcome sight to see in the past moon turn.

At four and a half moons pregnant, Brienne looked incredible. Everything about her seemed to glow and despite her discomfort at Jaime’s presence, she struck Jaime as a confident, just, and intelligent Queen. Jaime marveled at the changes she had already made. It seemed she could do no wrong in the eyes of the people, nobility, and kingdoms.

The image of Brienne from the day prior came to mind. Upon returning from training with Addam, Jaime noted the door connecting his room and Brienne’s had been left slightly ajar. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence as castle staff passed between rooms more easily while tidying up and changing the linens.

Moving towards the door to close it, Jaime had heard the distinct sound of water lapping against the tub edge. Glancing in, Jaime saw Brienne step from the bath. The water dripped off her long, lean body. The small swell at her belly was visible just above the thatch of blonde hair he came to know all too well at Winterfell.

Water dripped down her swollen breasts. Brienne’s nipples pebbled from the slight chill in the air when the breeze came through the balcony of her room. The sight went straight to Jaime’s cock. 

As Jaime lay abed that morning, he conjured the image the day prior. Jaime reached below the sheets and into his smallclothes to take himself in hand.

The longing had been the worst part. He missed making love to Brienne. The feel of her walls contracting tightly around his cock as he brought her to release. He missed the sensation of her surprisingly soft skin below his calloused hand.

As Jaime stroked the length of his cock, he buried his face into the pillow to muffle his moans. Before Brienne, Jaime hated resorting to taking himself in hand. When Cersei proved elusive, there were days where he had little option. The act frustrated him even when he still had the benefit of his dominant hand.

After falling love with Brienne, Jaime knew it was the only way to experience such pleasure with her. He was convinced that someone as incredible as Brienne would never have him. When blue eyes replaced green eyes in his visions to bring him release, Jaime felt shame and guilt.

Brienne was pure and good. The simple act of stroking himself to the thought of her felt dishonorable. Then to his shock, Jaime finally had her at Winterfell. His deepest desire came true.

Laying with Brienne was like nothing he had experienced before. The frantic, hidden trysts with Cersei paled in comparison. It was as though Jaime found his true match in this world. The missing piece of his heart finally restored.

His hand could never replace that, but it was his only option now. He had ruined any chance at happiness when he omitted facts and lied to Brienne. With a muffled cry, Jaime came hard on the sheets. It felt pathetic and he hated himself for the situation he was in. He lay there for some time before forcing himself from bed.

After making himself presentable for the day, Jaime knocked gently on the door between his room and Brienne’s. Every morning Jaime knocked in the hope that Brienne may accept his request to break their fast together. Every morning he stood staring at a door that would never open.

In the mornings, Jaime took to eating with Genna, Tyrion, Daven, and Addam. The past week, Tyrion abandoned their table more and more often to eat with Sansa. Both Jaime and Genna wondered at the growing relationship between the pair. There had been a special regard between the two at Winterfell that Jaime couldn’t give name to, but he saw it now.

The two were falling in love, or rather, giving in to what was always there. While happy for his brother, a slight jealousy gnawed at Jaime. He berated himself for it and tried to instead support Tyrion’s blossoming affections for Sansa.

Genna had been named to the newly formed council that Brienne put together. That morning, they would meet with the rest of the delegates for the first time. The envoys from Dorne, the Reach, and the Iron Islands had all arrived in recent days. 

Addam remained in King’s Landing as the newly appointed commander of the West’s army. Since Jaime wed Brienne, he couldn’t continue to oversee the Westerlands’ military. He could think of no one more capable than Addam. Given the state of the city’s limited defense, Addam called in half of the West’s remaining bannermen to guard the city alongside the Unsullied and Dothraki who wished to remain.

Brienne and Addam got on quite well which further vexed Jaime. The two took to sparring the yards, and Addam marveled at Brienne’s skill. As a special project, Brienne requested Addam’s help reforming the Gold Cloaks. The pair spent a good amount of time together over the past fortnight working on a plan to build the City Watch anew.

Addam also engaged with the Unsullied and Dothraki willing to stay behind. The Unsullied were well-trained and incredibly skilled, but the Dothraki were less familiar with military protocol and uniformity. They were however vicious fighters and highly respected by the Westerosi soldiers who began to train with them.

Standing at the door to Brienne’s room, Jaime sighed heavily at the lack of response. As much as Jaime missed the physical intimacy with Brienne, he missed their friendship more. At Winterfell, they took meals together, trained together, and laughed together. Jaime loved finding new ways to make Brienne smile. They were rare gems that he greedily sought out and hoarded.

Stepping from the room, Jaime offered a small smile at Pod and Grey Worm who stood on guard. “Morning.”

Both men nodded in response; Pod less enthusiastic to greet Jaime. Taking a deep breath, Jaime made his request. “If you wouldn’t mind telling…”

Before Jaime could finish, Pod cut him off. “The queen ‘good morning’ for you. Yes.”

It had become a morning routine. Jaime knocked. Brienne didn’t answer. Jaime offered a greeting through the Queensguard.

To the matter of the Queensguard, Brienne had rounded them out with a knight from the Riverlands and one from the Vale. They were good men despite being a bit young. Another recent appointment was that of Master of Laws. Samwell Tarly had been named on recommendation from Jon.

He was a smart young man who studied briefly at the Citadel. Jaime heard tales of him curing Ser Jorah of greyscale. Despite his slight bumbling nature, Sam seemed kind and skilled enough to have not died during the Long Night. Further, Maester Tyton offered Sam the opportunity to continue his studies under his tutelage.

As Jaime entered the hall, he moved towards his usual table. Looking down the other end of the hall, Jaime saw Tyrion and Sansa laughing together as they ate. The two were both politically minded, highly intelligent, and confident; a perfect pairing. Jaime muttered to himself as he sat down.

_Brienne and I were well-matched in many ways, or so I thought._

“Good morning, _my lord_.” Addam’s teasing voice floated across the table. He knew that nothing irritated Jaime more than being called lord. Jaime was a knight and wished to remain as such.

Daven snickered as he shoved a piece of bread into his mouth. “That’s Ser Lordly Consort to you, Addam.”

Addam guffawed and nodded emphatically. Sparing a glance at Jaime, Addam’s brow rose challengingly. “The queen and I crossed blades against each other yesterday. _Gods_ , she is glorious with a sword. I think _I_ got more action with her than _you_ have since you wed.”

Anger boiled in Jaime as he looked to his traitorous friend. Addam quickly put up a defensive hand as he chuckled.

Dropping her fork, Genna glared at the pair. “Enough. The both of you.”

Turning her attention to Jaime, Genna offered a sympathetic smile. “Jaime. Stop sulking. I warned the pair of you. No one forced either of you.”

Jaime knew all too well. The only concession Brienne made in their relationship was allowing Jaime to attend the small council and the special council. Brienne agreed that it made sense for Jaime to be involved politically despite not being afforded alone time with her.

Removing any mirth from his tone, Daven tried to offer encouragement. “Come to the yards later. Her Grace always makes time to train with us. I doubt she’ll refuse you for a spar.”

Jaime rubbed his forehead as he considered the words. “Doubtful. At least she still lets me join her at the orphanage.”

It had become the best part of Jaime’s day. Jaime enjoyed being near Brienne and interacting with her at the orphanage. While she likely only allowed it to honor the children’s request, Jaime accepted the offer eagerly. 

Watching Brienne play with the children had a strange effect on Jaime. It made him long to hold their babe and play as a family; just the three of them. The children’s games also allowed Jaime a chance to get physically close to Brienne. A stray hand on her back. A whisper in her ear. A quick embrace if the game warranted a chase.

Jaime lived for those moments and it became their time. He didn’t want to share it with anyone else. As they finished eating, Genna and Jaime moved towards the smaller hall where the special council would assemble.

Entering the room, Jaime noted two new faces among those he knew. Lord Royce represented the Vale and Ser Baelor represented the Reach. Gendry had been named for the Stormlands as Selwyn felt it would be the first true test of the young man’s ability to represent their kingdom. 

Selwyn would act as council to Gendry by way of raven. Looking at the representative for the Riverlands, Jaime made out the sigil of House Bracken. He vaguely remembered the man’s face, but he struggled to recall the lord’s name. Then there were two faces entirely unfamiliar to Jaime, but the House sigil on the young man’s doublet was one that Jaime would never forget. House Dayne.

At their entry, some slight grumbles filled the room. Leaning into Genna’s ear, Jaime snickered. “Oh good. They know us.”

The West was the most unpopular of kingdoms thanks to Cersei. Further, Jaime’s reputation as her lapdog hardly helped. Always one to make an entrance, Genna barked at the room.

“Oh shut up. My monster of a niece is in the cells, and last I checked we exported her to the Stormlands many years ago. Blame Lord Gendry for her. All her crimes were committed under the Baratheon name before her lands and titles were stripped.”

Jaime bit back a laugh as Gendry’s eyes went wide. “M’lady! I hardly know her.”

Genna feigned shock. “You’ve never met your father’s wife? Gods. What kind of family are you Baratheons?”

Appraising the room, Genna narrowed eyes at the young woman dressed in furs. “By the Seven, are you a Wildling?”

“I’m Meera Reed. Lord Bran sent me to represent the North.”

Genna scoffed. “Heavens girl. You’ll die of heat in an outfit like that.”

Turning to the envoy from House Bracken, Genna nodded slightly. “Lord Jonos. Good to see you looking well. Belly has filled out nicely in your later years.”

The older lord huffed a laugh and waved Genna off. “Leave me be Genna. Take your seat.”

Then Genna’s eyes wandered to the envoy bearing the House Dayne sigil. “House Dayne. Oh my. Jaime, your idol has some kin left in this world.”

Jaime appraised the young man. He had the looks of Oberyn Martell, but he was taller and broader of shoulders. With a slight nod, the young man smirked with a confidence befitting a Lannister more than a Dayne.

“My name is Edric Dayne, my lady. I go by Ned however.”

Jaime groaned in distaste. With a firm elbow to his side, Genna glared at Jaime. She muttered under her breath. “Be nice. The West needs allies. Not enemies.”

Taking a seat, Genna glanced around the table. “Where is our queen? Late to her own party?”

Lord Royce huffed a small laugh. “She was meeting with the new representative from the Iron Islands this morning. Quellon something or other. I do believe she met with everyone else except Lord Ned here.”

The young Dayne smiled and shrugged. “She hadn’t the time for me yet.”

_Join the club._

Within moments, the door opened to reveal Brienne and Quellon. Those assembled stood in formal address to their queen. Jaime’s eyes appraised the room. He was always on edge to ensure that no one disrespected Brienne as he once had. He knew the looks she often received, and he hoped to see only respect.

As his eyes scanned those assembled, he took pause at Lord Ned Dayne. The young man who looked no older than Brienne stood slack jawed. His eyes roamed her body and Jaime could hardly contain the rage pooling in his gut. Unlike most men who appraised Brienne with thinly veiled repulsion, Ned looked in awe of her. The revere in his eyes was similar to how Tormund looked at her.

 _What are you looking at? That is_ _my_ _wife_ _you dolt._

With a shy smile to those amassed, Brienne moved to her seat. She had been placed at the head of the table which she loathed. Jaime was placed directly across from Brienne with four delegates along each side of the table. Ned had been sitting two seats down from Brienne’s right-hand side. He had left an open seat for Quellon, but before the envoy from the Iron Islands took his place, Ned slid down.

_This fucking shit._

“Your grace. I regret that we have not formally met yet. My name is Lord Edric Dayne, but everyone knows me as Ned.”

The young man reached for Brienne’s hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles. Brienne’s face flushed at the attention. A knot formed in Jaime’s stomach as he watched the exchange.

_I’ve never kissed her knuckles. When was the last time I made her blush?_

As if sensing his mounting jealousy, Genna grumbled at Jaime’s side. “This will be _interesting_.”


	19. The Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a moon turn since the special council formed. Brienne is surprised to have made a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today has to be another double posting day, but this and the next chapter are companion chapters. Apologies as I didn't plan so well and still need to do a final edit. I hope to have the next chapter up in a couple of hours! 
> 
> Also a note on Ned since I forgot to mention this in my haste to get the double posting up yesterday. We took Edric "Ned" Dayne from the books and aged him up about 10ish years (hey... if the Ds can do it, so can we!). We also took A LOT of liberties with his appearance and made him look much more like Oberyn than how he is described in the book (because lets be real... Oberyn is a true delight on the eyes). And lastly, as I recall Ned from the books, he isn't much of a fighter??? Yeah... changed that too. HEHEHE sorry not sorry Jaime. I mean lets be honest... we just wanted the name because it is amusing to no end.

Brienne laughed loudly for what seemed the hundredth time that hour alone. It had been a moon turn since the special council began meeting. A friendship had formed with Ned Dayne that had been most unexpected.

At first, Brienne questioned his intentions. Only two people had ever been kind to Brienne upon their initial meeting; Renly and Pod. Someone of her size and appearance was never greeted with kind eyes and warm smiles. Brienne’s Septa had schooled her to understand that any such offerings from a man were false.

Over the past moon turn, it started with small things. Ned would ask to join Brienne for training in the yards or to take a lunch to discuss matters in Dorne. Eventually, those meetings evolved into discussions of their upbringing and interests; of their aspirations and insecurities.

Ned expressed fear in not living up to his House’s expectations. He lived in the shadow of his uncle, Ser Arthur, and he had struggled to overcome unrealistic expectations on the battlefield. Sparring with Ned as often as she did, Brienne noted how skilled he was with a blade, and how easily he adapted to new styles.

She enjoyed sparring with Ned, and in many ways, his style reminded Brienne of Jaime’s. Soon their conversations took a personal turn. Ned asked after Brienne’s pregnancy; how she was feeling both physically and emotionally. He longed for children of his own, but Ned had yet to take a wife.

At first, Brienne withheld details of her marriage. It felt uncomfortable discussing what were private matters between her and Jaime. In truth, Brienne thought Westeros would care little. She was wed to a man from a Great House and having his babe. Her happiness in it all seemed irrelevant to the realm.

But Ned was observant. He noticed the distance between Brienne and Jaime. He observed the uneasy glances and sorrow in her eyes. A week ago, he asked about it while they took lunch in the gardens.

_ A week prior _

“Are you unhappy with Ser Jaime? I mean no offense, it’s just that neither of you seem pleased with the match.”

Brienne swallowed thickly and averted her eyes. It was embarrassing to discuss the details of her marriage; particularly to a man as handsome as Ned. He was likely more inclined to understand Jaime’s perspective than her own.

“It’s a political marriage.”

Ned’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “You are having his child though, correct?”

Brienne shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she considered how best to respond. Something in Ned’s eyes told her that she could be honest. He seemed kind and trustworthy.

“I imagine that Ser Jaime would rather I was not. His heart belongs to another. He’s a good man though and merely doing his duty. He is kind to me, and he has done much for the kingdoms.”

The younger man leaned back and sighed. His arms crossed over his chest, seemingly unimpressed with the information. “He should be pleased to be wed to you. I would be. If you’re unhappy, you should take a lover.”

Brienne nearly choked on the water she was drinking. At her reaction, Ned chuckled and patted her back. “Are you alright?”

“Gods!? A…” Brienne leaned in conspiratorially. “A lover? No. I swore vows.”

Ned shrugged. “Dorne is much freer where it concerns love. You should experience love and not settle for a political marriage.”

The thought seemed absurd to Brienne. She could never be loved. Her truth was in the mirror and her mirror reflected an ugly, awkward, unlovable beast.

“The Gods did not make me for such things. I’m pleased enough to offer love to others. I don’t need it returned.”

Horror shone in Ned’s eyes. “Mayhaps you need new gods. Everyone deserves love. For all you’re doing for our kingdoms, you deserve it most of all. Is Ser Jaime taking a lover?”

A blush crept up Brienne’s neck. It was embarrassing to think on. “We have an arrangement where he could if he chooses. I wouldn’t hold it against him, but no, he is not. Although in truth, I try not to think about it.”

Ned huffed a disbelieving laugh. “He’s a fool. If I called you mine, I would not let you feel as you do now.”

  
  
  


That had been a week prior, and now Brienne walked towards the courtyard to depart for the orphanage. As expected, the Queensguard and Gold Cloaks would accompany her. Jaime waited outside for the group as he always did. That morning however, Brienne had asked Ned to join them.

They had many things in common, namely, their desire to make the lives of the people better than it had been under prior sovereigns. There was something about Ned that made Brienne’s stomach flutter and her face heat. It felt akin to her childhood crush on Renly, though nothing like her feelings for Jaime. Pushing the thought away, Brienne walked into the courtyard as they prepared to move out.

Before they departed, Brienne saw Ned walking quickly towards the group. His smile seemed to light up the space around him as he approached. The dimples at his cheeks were pronounced when his eyes landed on Brienne. His eyes sparkled in a way that made Brienne’s heart skip a beat.

At the notice, Brienne felt her cheeks pink. She never knew how to handle attention from men. The rapid movement of footsteps at Brienne’s side drew her consciousness.

Jaime stood before Brienne and spoke through gritted teeth. “What is he doing here?”

“I invited him. I thought he might like to meet the children.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “What!? No. This is our time.”

The reaction caught Brienne by surprise. It wasn’t as though they were having a private supper. They merely sought to bring smiles to the faces of orphaned children who had endured so much.

“I didn’t think there was any harm in inviting him.” Brienne’s voice was laced with confusion as she held Jaime’s eyes. The anger on his face matched his tone.

“Tell him to leave.”

The request seemed more a demand, and Brienne felt her own ire raise. Jaime’s attitude had been bothersome of late. He always belittled Ned’s ideas in council meetings. When Brienne and Ned took to the yards, Jaime often spared Addam nearby and he made snide comments to Ned about his swordsmanship. It seemed now he meant to refuse Ned from offering support to orphaned children.

“No. If you have a problem with Lord Ned, then don’t join us.”

Something flashed across Jaime’s face that was difficult to read. Before he could respond, Ned reached them; a wide smile on his face.

“Your Grace. Ser Jaime. Thank you for inviting me.”

Without looking at Ned, Jaime growled at the man. “I didn’t.”

Ned startled at the response and glanced at Brienne. “Apologies. I can leave if…”

“Please forgive my husband, Lord Ned. I’m glad you’re able to join us. The children will be excited to meet someone new; particularly someone from House Dayne. Your uncle is much revered in King’s Landing.”

With a wide smile, Ned nodded. “Wonderful. I’m excited to meet them. In Dorne, caring for the youth is a great honor. The children are our future.”

As Brienne turned to leave, Ned clapped Jaime’s shoulder; a wide smile still plastered to his face. “Come on then old man. Lets go play with the children.”

The ride into the city was livelier than usual. Ned regaled them with tales from Dorne and Brienne enjoyed listening to him. He was of her age, but seemed more worldly. There was an infectious confidence to him that Brienne envied. She wished to be so self-assured as Ned. 

As Brienne laughed loudly at one particular tale, she could feel Jaime’s eyes boring a hole into the side of her face. Her eyes darted to him and all she saw was hate.

_ He can’t even let me be happy and have a friend. It’s as though he wants me to feel as unwanted as I am unloved. _

Any mirth in Brienne’s eyes died at recognition of Jaime’s anger. Her head fell and she quieted herself. It felt as though she was back on Tarth under the scrutinizing eyes of Septa Roelle.

_ Ugly, unlovable creatures should not have the pleasure of knowing happiness and inclusion. _

Brienne’s thoughts spiraled as they went. She questioned if Ned was true. Brienne pondered if he had hidden motives for being kind to her, when she had otherwise not earned it. Pod and Sansa had been kind to Brienne, but she did her best to earn it.

Pod would have been executed by Cersei if he remained in King’s Landing. It was in protection of Pod that Jaime sent them off together. Brienne thought to have earned Pod’s kindness through the protection and training that she afforded him. Now Pod was one of her dearest friends.

It was similar with Sansa. At first, the young girl looked to Brienne as others had; with disinterest. When Sansa sat with Baelish at the inn, she refused Brienne’s sword and cast her aside. It wasn’t until she needed saving that Brienne had the opportunity to prove her loyalty. To offer protection and support. It was then that Brienne believed to have earned Sansa’s kindness and friendship.

Even Jaime had no affection for Brienne at first. She tried to care for him when he was sick with fever and in desperate need of aid. Slowly, she earned his trust, and she thought to have earned his respect. She considered Jaime a friend, even if she could never be his lover.

Of course, even that temporary kindness came with its limits. So long as Cersei was safe, Jaime was kind. Lately, Jaime seemed to regard Brienne as he had in the Riverlands when they first met. He seemed upset that Brienne made a true friend, or at least, someone Brienne hoped to be true.

Now she wondered at it all. Looking to Ned, Brienne forced a small smile as he continued his story. The early morning sun danced on his stunning complexion. When they arrived at the orphanage, the children who were outside clapped excitedly and called out to Brienne. Trying to feign at happiness, Brienne smiled and waved, though she wasn’t certain if it reached her eyes.

The swell at her belly was beginning to make dismounting a challenge. At five and a half moons, her belly was still small on account of her height, but jarring dismounts proved uncomfortable. Brienne turned to dismount and was surprised to see Ned at her side.

Offering his hand, he smiled warmly. “Your Grace. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Brienne felt like a woman. It was a kind gesture that men afforded to women; all women except Brienne. A smile spread across Brienne’s face as she took his offered hand. Standing nearby, Jaime snorted and shook his head.

“She can dismount a bloody horse by herself. She’s a knight.”

It was then that Brienne understood what she was to Jaime. Brienne wasn’t a beautiful woman to be cared for as Jaime would Cersei. She was an ugly woman wearing men’s attire. His opinion of her wasn’t different from what Brienne encountered throughout life, but seeing the truth of Jaime’s regard hurt more than the lies about Cersei’s pregnancy, and the spiteful words he spoke at Winterfell.

“She’s a lady and Queen first. A knight second. Whether her Grace can dismount on her own is irrelevant.” Ned spat back at Jaime; his eyes narrowed in scorn.

Ned’s words soothed the deep pain at the reminder of what she was to the world, and the revelation of Jaime’s true feelings for her.

Jaime moved towards them; his nostrils flaring in rage. “One does not come before the other. She is all of those things equally.”

With a nonchalant shrug, Ned met Jaime’s eyes. “Then perhaps start treating your wife as such.”

Eager to not make a scene, Brienne moved inside. The children were excited to see her and meet the nephew of a legend.They played games and Brienne read them stories. Not surprisingly, the children wished to play monsters and maidens before she left.

Running was becoming more challenging as her belly grew. Brienne noticed a reduction in her stamina of late, but she was determined to push through and not disappoint the children. The game seemed to stretch on for eternity. Ned was able to corner Brienne and prevent her from escaping; his eyes shining with mischief and mirth.

Brienne tried to fake left before dashing right, but a firm kick in her belly made her take pause. Her eyes went wide at the sensation. She had felt the babe moving lately, but this was the strongest yet.

Taking pause, Brienne’s hand moved to her growing swell.

“Your Grace? Are you alright?” Ned looked alarmed as he stood before her.

“The babe moved.” At her whispered words, the children nearby became enthusiastic and rushed to feel her belly.

A wide smile spread across Brienne’s face as little hands reached for her. For the second time that day, Brienne felt more woman than beast.

“May I?” Ned looked inquiringly at Brienne; his hand raised for permission.

From over his shoulder, Brienne saw Jaime’s face fall. Their eyes briefly met, but he looked away immediately and left the orphanage.

_ He’s missing this with Cersei. I pray he can love this babe as much as he’ll love Cersei’s. _

With a slow nod of approval, Brienne felt Ned press a warm hand to her belly. His eyes went wide, and he looked at her excitedly.

“A young knight indeed! Already practicing footwork!”

They left the orphanage to return to the Keep. There was much to accomplish before lunch, and Brienne had agreed to meet with Sansa before the special council.

When they stepped outside, Brienne was surprised to see that Jaime had left. In the distance, she saw his retreating form on horseback as he made his way towards the Keep. Memories of the courtyard at Winterfell swirled in her mind.

Brienne was broken from her thoughts by Ned. He brought Brienne her horse and helped her up once more. The ride to the Keep was more subdued than on the way down. A question seemed to dance on the tip of Ned’s tongue as they neared the courtyard.

“Your Grace, if I may… I was hoping we could take supper together.”

The thought of taking supper with someone other than the Stark sisters was an exciting prospect. She adored the young women, but at times she felt as though she was infringing upon their family time.

“I would like that.”

When they reached the Keep and Brienne made her way inside, a smile spread across her face. She felt a familiar heat to her cheeks at the thought of spending time with Ned. Still, a part of her felt guilty.

Jaime’s reactions earlier that day made Brienne take pause. She felt guilty for how much she enjoyed spending time with Ned. She felt guilty for finding Ned attractive. She felt guilty for being happy.

It frustrated Brienne that she loved Jaime as much as she did, and that she felt badly for things that others sought out and found effortlessly. Knowing that Jaime was likely pining after Cersei, Brienne made a decision with selfish intent.

_ I’m going to have fun with Ned tonight. I’ll allow myself his friendship and not let Jaime’s anger deny me happiness. _

After a long day of meetings and a grueling training session in the yards with Addam, Pod, and Grey Worm, Brienne sat in the gardens with Ned. There was an ease with which they fell into conversation and enjoyed each other’s company.

“I loved your idea about inheritance today, and I’m glad the law is getting changed. It always struck me odd that firstborns were only ensured inheritance if male.”

Ned spoke passionately as he pushed around the remaining food on his plate. At the words, Brienne smiled.

“I wasn’t certain it would be well received. Some of the special council and small council are a bit  _ traditional _ .”

Ned guffawed. “That is putting it mildly. Lord Jonos looked as though he may faint. I thought I’d have to catch him, though I feared he’d crush me half to death.”

A fit of laughter gripped Brienne. Lord Jonos’ reactions throughout the meetings were a sight to behold. At times, it was difficult to maintain her composure as Ned tried to catch her eye and make her laugh with ridiculous impersonations of the older lord.

“You have a gorgeous smile, you know. It makes your eyes sparkle more than usual.”

The ease with which the words spilled from Ned’s lips took Brienne by surprise. An all too familiar flutter in her stomach accompanied a fast spreading heat at her neck and face.

It was a similar compliment to the one Grey Worm had offered. Hearing it more than once made Brienne think it true. While Brienne was self-aware enough to know she was ugly, it was reassuring that she had some features not entirely repulsive.

“You’re quite kind to say such things. I never thanked you for being kind to me when we met. My appearance is obviously quite jarring.”

Brienne offered a knowing smile, but Ned didn’t return her mirth.

“It’s basic decency, but in truth, I quite like your appearance.”

The words were difficult to absorb. It was one thing to have her eyes or smile complimented, but Brienne knew she was ugly. It made her question how genuine Ned was being. Suddenly, she wanted to retreat to her room as she often did when uncomfortable.

“I’m quite tired. I think I’ll retire if you’re done eating.” Brienne forced a smile to her face as she glanced to Ned’s plate. It was just about empty, and the young man had slowed eating some time ago.

With a warm smile, Ned nodded and stood. “Let me walk you there.”

Brienne snorted. “I’m followed around by the Queensguard. You don’t need to do that.”

“They follow you, but I would like to escort you. I want to. You’re my Queen and a Lady. I’d bring shame to myself and my House if I didn’t treat you as such.”

_ He’s either the kindest man I’ve ever met or the best liar. _

With a nod, Brienne stood and accepted Ned’s offered arm. They walked into the castle slowly as Ned told japes to make Brienne chuckle. A warmth spread through Brienne as she once more embraced the feminine feeling rising within.

As a girl, Brienne had watched visiting vassals strolling through Evenfall. She watched from a distance with a smile on her face as the ladies gripped the strong arms of the lord husbands. The ladies looked graceful and beautiful. Brienne longed to be one of them.

Now as she walked through the Keep, Brienne averted her eyes whenever they passed someone in the hallway. She worried at looking frivolous with her mannish hand on Ned’s arm as though she was trying to be something she had no business being.

When they arrived at her room, Ned smiled. “Ah, the Queen’s chambers. I imagine your room is the size of most Keeps.”

Brienne chuckled and shook her head. “It is quite large. Unnecessarily so. The balcony is near the size of my room at Evenfall. It’s ridiculous.”

Ned’s boyish enthusiasm became infectious as he looked to her. “I have to see this!” 

As Brienne opened the door, Ned moved inside like a boy of ten. He guffawed at the sight of the room. Looking around in awe, he moved towards the balcony.

“Gods! You weren’t kidding! This is ridiculous.”

Ned spun on his heel as Brienne shut the door and moved inside. It was an extravagant room. On the left was a massive four post bed. The posts resembled pillars like those in the throne room rather than a standard bed frame. The room was dimly lit by dancing firelight from the corner fireplace and massive chandeliers that led to the balcony.

Appraising the room as though the grandest thing he had ever seen, Ned moved towards the door that connected to Jaime's room. “Gods! What is this? Do you have  _ another  _ room in here!?”

He pushed the door open slightly before Brienne could stop him. A slight panic surged through her.

“No! That’s Ser Jaime’s room.”

Ned’s head had already poked inside. Like Brienne’s room, the staff kept the room well lit for his return at night. The room was smaller in scale, but still unnecessarily large. Brienne cringed at Ned’s unintended intrusion.

In truth, Brienne feared that room. She fretted about the more attractive woman who may someday take residence in it after winning Jaime’s heart. The door represented what she could never have, and she avoided it all costs.

With a slight shrug, Ned moved away from the door. “He must be training in the yards. Too bad. He could have invited me in for a drink.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. She was about to tell Ned to shut the door, but she was quickly distracted by Ned taking a helm from the wall. It was a ridiculous adornment that Brienne meant to have the staff remove. She had no idea how anyone could have thought it a nice decorative piece.

Ned donned the helm which was easily twice the size of his head. The sight of it made Brienne laugh loudly as he swayed his head to get the helm to move in the most unnatural directions.

“Gods! Whose head could even fit in this? The Mountain perhaps? I heard he was quite large. A disgusting thing he did to my liege lord’s family.”

Taking the helm off Ned’s head, Brienne spoke plainly. “I hope no one’s head. It’s almost as absurd as this room.”

Ned chuckled and grabbed the helm back. “Mayhaps the prior occupant of this chamber was a giant and this was his helm.”

The young lord from Dorne japed a while longer. Brienne forgot all about the uncomfortable comments at dinner and enjoyed his company. They sat in the chaise lounge and spoke on several topics. As Ned made another ridiculous jape, Brienne threw back her head and laughed.

She shook her head happily as the laughter died down. Turning to meet Ned’s eyes, she was surprised at his proximity. Before Brienne realized what was happening, Ned’s lips were on hers.

Brienne stiffened in shock as Ned’s hands came to her face.

_ Hands. Not one. Two. It’s all wrong. _

Ned’s lips were soft, but not Jaime’s lips. His touch was gentle, but not Jaime’s touch. His scent was nice, but not Jaime’s scent.

Placing her hands on Ned’s chest, Brienne pushed him back slowly. Her jaw dropped in shock.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m married to Ser Jaime.”

Ned hung his head slightly. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought that since you had that arrangement with him, you might consider me.”

_ Oh gods. I should have been clearer. _

“I’m so sorry, Ned. You’re an incredible man. I’ve loved spending this time with you, but the arrangement was for Ser Jaime’s benefit. I thought it might make enduring this marriage easier for him. Well… selfishly, I thought it might be easier than watching him trying to sneak around when he found a new love someday, after the pain of losing Cersei subsided. I never intended to take advantage of it. I’m… I’m fine being alone. I’m used to it.”

Ned’s head tilted in consideration. “You shouldn’t be alone. You’re a wonderful woman. I’m quite jealous of him. If you were my wife, I would never let you feel alone.”

A sad smile spread across Brienne’s face. “You’ll make an incredible husband when you find the right woman. Can we be friends?”

“Of course. My heart is rather crushed, but I understand. If you ever change your mind, I would love to be yours.”

Brienne swallowed thickly. The young man before her was handsome, kind, funny, and skilled with a blade. It would be easy for him to find a willing bride, but like Brienne, he seemed someone who sought love. Unlike Brienne, his love would someday be requited.

Brienne looked to her hands as they rested on her lap. “I’m sorry that I gave you the wrong idea. Perhaps in a different lifetime…”

_ No. That’s a lie. In every lifetime I would love Jaime. In every lifetime I would love him from afar. Alone. _

Ned stood from the chaise lounge and smiled sadly at Brienne. “You love him.”

Embarrassment coursed through Brienne at how obvious she must be. With a small nod, she confirmed as much. Ned sighed above her; his tone bitter.

“He’s a lucky man, though I don’t think he deserves you. Just don’t question your worth. You should be treated as a knight  _ and _ a woman.”

Grabbing Brienne’s hand, Ned placed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Goodnight, your Grace.”


	20. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime returns to the Keep and gets some advice from Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! This chapter pairs with the one just posted a couple of hours ago (The Temptation)

_ Earlier that day _

Jaime rode through King’s Landing towards the Keep. The sound of the horse’s hooves was drowned out by the onslaught of thoughts in his head. Jaime’s thoughts vacillated between rage, jealousy, and hurt.

Rage. Jaime hated Ned. Ned was always leaning too close to Brienne or letting his hand linger too long on her body. The younger lord constantly made passive aggressive comments towards Jaime. Before leaving for the orphanage, Ned made one such remark. It seemed to Jaime that Ned only ever spoke in backhanded pleasantries.  _ ‘Come on then, old man. Let's go play with the children.’ _

It was hardly the first comment of its variety and it only served to remind Jaime how little he deserved Brienne.  _ Too old. Crippled. Sister-fucker. _

Jealousy. For weeks the Dornish lord reminded Jaime of all that he wasn’t: young, two-handed, honorable, and worst of all, close to Brienne. It appeared to Jaime that Ned’s sole objective was to outshine him in Brienne’s eyes. Further, Brienne liked the man. Jaime worried that she may even be falling in love with Ned. Where Brienne would not grant Jaime so much as a smile in greeting, she offered Ned everything that Jaime desired: time, smiles, and touch.

Hurt. Jaime knew he was losing Brienne. It hurt more than being insulted by Ned or seeing little more than a closed door between his room and Brienne’s. He missed Brienne more than anything; infinitely more than his sword hand. Further, he was losing her to someone worthy. A whole man who hadn’t spent most of his life fucking his own sister. Were it not for his presence, Jaime thought that Ned would make a perfect match for Brienne.

Their trip to the orphanage had been awful. Jealousy swirled in Jaime as he watched Brienne’s face light up at Ned’s awful stories. Jaime missed being the one to elicit a rare laugh or smile from Brienne. Anger, frustration, and jealousy gripped Jaime’s features as he glared at Ned.

When Brienne had glanced at Jaime, he couldn’t wipe the scowl from his face quickly enough. Instantly, Brienne’s mirth had died. Jaime hated that not only was he unable to make Brienne smile, but his presence seemed to make her spirits fall. He wondered if Brienne would have preferred time alone with Ned.

Then they reached the orphanage and Jaime saw Ned help Brienne from her horse. It was something he longed to do: to treat her as a wife should be treated. Jaime wanted to offer his arm, hold her close, touch her, and kiss her publicly. Every time Jaime tried to get close to Brienne, she moved away as if scalded.

Jaime had taken his frustration out on Ned. He barked some nonsense at Ned about Brienne being able to dismount a horse. In truth, Jaime had wanted to be the one whose aid was accepted. Jaime struggled to express himself well when angry, and Ned quickly twisted Jaime’s words. The young lord made it seem as though Jaime cared little for Brienne the woman rather than Brienne the knight.

Of course, the time inside the orphanage had not proved better for Jaime’s mood. When they played with the children, Ned and Brienne remained close. It was time usually reserved for Jaime and Brienne. Now not only did Jaime have to share it, but he felt in the way of the young pair. It felt as though they would be happier without him there.

Then Brienne felt the babe move and Jaime held his breath. He wanted to go to her and place his hand on her swell.  _ Our babe _ . Ned was the one she looked to first though. Again, Jaime felt in the way. Cast aside for the younger, handsome knight whose honor matched Brienne’s. 

Arriving at the Keep, Jaime moved quickly through the halls and towards Tyrion’s room. There had been little opportunity to speak with Tyrion since Jaime’s return to the capital. When Jaime did get his brother’s time, Tyrion seemed distant or uninterested in Jaime’s woes.

As he approached Tyrion’s room, Jaime decided to force the issue. Whether Tyrion was busy or not, Jaime would make his little brother speak with him.

Jaime moved quickly into Tyrion’s room without so much as knocking. He immediately began ranting as he entered.

“I can’t take this anymore, Tyrion! I’ve nothing left in me. Now she can’t even afford me…”

Jaime stopped talking at the sight before him. Tyrion and Sansa were on the chaise lounge enjoying some wine. With his arm around Sansa’s shoulder, Tyrion’s mouth was at her neck in an act indicating this was far from a work meeting.

At Jaime’s intrusion, Sansa pushed Tyrion away and barked at Jaime.

“Gods! Do you know how to knock!?”

Jaime scoffed; his eyes narrowing and his shoulders shrugging. “I’ll have you know that I’ve walked in on far worse where it concerns my little brother. I do believe he’s had three or four whores on him at once.”

“Jaime!” Tyrion growled. His lips pressed together in anger as his eyes shone with warning.

“Fine. I’m sorry to be a bother yet again. Mayhap at some point in the next several years you can afford me more time than Brienne does. That wouldn’t require any more than a curt moment here or there.”

Jaime turned to leave and heard loud huffs of irritation behind him. It was Tyrion’s voice that called out.

“What is it Jaime? What is so important that you had to burst into my room without the curtesy of knocking?”

Swallowing thickly, Jaime kept his eyes on the door as he reached for the handle. “I can talk to Sam about it.”

“Sam? Sam Tarly?” Tyrion’s tone was riddled with disbelief as he questioned Jaime.

Before Jaime could open the door, he heard Tyrion’s footsteps at his back. There was one thought that stuck with Jaime the entire ride back to the Keep. As Tyrion reached his side, Jaime glanced down at his younger brother whose brows were knitted in confusion.

The thought hurt to consider let alone give voice to. Speaking in a whisper, Jaime closed his eyes as he spoke. “Annulment. I think Brienne would be happier with Ned. I want her to be happy.”

Tyrion’s jaw went slack at the words. With a sharp intake of breath, Tyrion looked back at Sansa. “I think I need to speak with my brother for a moment.”

“What’s going on?” Sansa asked the question as she stood. Her rapid footsteps drew Jaime’s attention as he tried to mask the hurt likely showing in his eyes.

Raising a plaintive hand, Tyrion took a deep breath. “Jaime, just wait here for a moment.”

Tyrion opened the door and pulled Sansa into the hallway. Even from the other side, Jaime could hear their hushed tones. Then he heard Sansa’s voice. “What!?”

Before Tyrion could protest the matter, Sansa was back in the room. She grabbed Jaime by the arm and dragged him towards the table and chairs nearest the chaise lounge.

“Sit!” The young woman barked at him as though he were a child in need of scolding.

With irritation heavy in her eyes, Sansa glanced at Tyrion. “You too! Now!”

Tyrion snorted at the command and moved towards the table after shutting the door. It was not a conversation that Jaime intended to have with Sansa present, but it seemed he had little choice.

“What is your problem? Why are you giving up on your marriage and  _ pregnant _ wife?” 

Jaime’s brows shot to his hairline. “You think that I’m the one giving up? She is miserable every time I walk in a room! Brienne can barely stomach the sight of me let alone offer a greeting. Now Ned on the other hand…”

Jaime felt his face scrunch in a rage. As soon as the anger came, it left. Hurt won out as he hung his head and shrugged.

“I think she is falling in love with him.”

At the words, Sansa buried her face in her hands. She grumbled briefly before looking at Jaime.

“You see misery on Brienne’s face when you enter a room? The rest of us see heartbreak and trepidation. You abandoned her for Cersei. You do recall your stupid, little speech at Winterfell, correct?”

Irritation began to build as Jaime met Sansa’s eyes. “I came south to kill Cersei! Those were lies I spoke to Brienne.”

“To you they were lies. To Brienne, they were the truth.”

_ What? What does that even mean? _

Jaime looked to Tyrion for aid. Silently willing his younger brother to translate the meaning of Sansa’s words, Jaime shrugged and raised a brow.

“That makes no sense. My words  _ were _ lies.”

Sansa put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You’re the stupidest Lannister.”

With a loud snort, Jaime crossed his arms. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.”

Sansa raised a challenging brow. “You believe me then?”

Jaime laughed and looked at Tyrion as though the question was absurd. He knew himself to be the stupidest Lannister. All his life, Tywin and Cersei made certain to remind him of it. He was constantly fucking things up in one way or another.

“It’s hardly a secret. Everyone knows me to be the stupidest Lannister.”

A satisfied smirk spread across Sansa’s face. “I lied. My intention was to make you think that I felt that way about you. In truth, I think you’re smarter than either of your siblings.”

Tyrion scoffed and leaned back in feigned offense. “Wow… alright. I do believe we were having a nice afternoon together.”

Shaking her head, Sansa grabbed Tyrion’s arm. “I used to think you were the most clever man I knew, but it seems your brother has, Winterfell aside, gotten the best of you of late.”

Both Lannister brothers looked to Sansa questioningly. She glanced between them and sighed. “You know how I feel about you Tyrion. You’re very intelligent, but you’ve made some incredibly idiotic decisions of late. You brought Daenerys across the Narrow Sea. You were outmaneuvered by your brother at the Rock. You were outmaneuvered by Cersei at the dragonpit. You moved south hastily after the Long Night. You sided with Daenerys over Varys. You misread your brother and freed him, which nearly sent him into the Stranger’s arms. I do believe he told you at Winterfell how happy he was with Brienne…”

Tyrion sighed and shook his head. With a small laugh, he shrugged. “Well when you put it like that…” Tyrion’s smile faded, and he dropped any mirth from his tone. 

“I’ve erred a lot in recent years. I thought myself smarter than all those around me, and it only made things worse. I have much to atone for.”

Sansa squeezed Tyrion’s arm. A fond look was in her eyes before she turned her gaze to Jaime.

“I won’t pretend that any of your decisions upon leaving Winterfell have been sound, but I understand what drove you; even if I don’t condone it. That said, you did outsmart your brother in your first clash with his chosen queen. You outsmarted my dolt uncle at Riverrun by getting him to turn over the castle without bloodshed. You found a way to get Pod and Brienne out of King’s Landing after Joffrey’s murder. I imagine you’ve done many other intelligent things too. I’ve heard you’ve one of the best military minds in Westeros. From my perspective, you are not the stupidest Lannister. Cersei’s decisions have been far more idiotic than yours. Tyrion’s decisions of late are questionable at best. Then of course there are your cousins. Don’t even get me started on them. You are certainly not the  _ stupidest _ Lannister. As I said… I lied and you believed my opinion of you.”

Jaime huffed. “I’ve been told my entire life that I’m the stupidest Lannister. It would hardly be a new opinion. Quite easy to believe.”

With a sorrowful nod, Sansa’s face fell. “And Brienne has been told her entire life that she is an ugly, unlovable beast. It really isn’t so difficult for her to believe that your words were true; particularly not where it concerns your sister. A woman you  _ have _ done horrible things for. A woman you  _ had _ loved most of your life. A woman you apparently got pregnant just before riding north. All you did was remind Brienne how laughable it is that she could be loved.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack at the words. He had never considered the larger impact of his words on Brienne. When he spoke the words, he meant to ensure Brienne did not follow him into certain death. As Jaime felt the weight of his actions sink in, Sansa continued speaking.

“She keeps you at a distance, because she believes you are trying to use her love for you to keep Cersei alive. She thinks that you would choose Cersei over her. Can you blame Brienne for wanting little to do with you? She is guarding her heart. She married you thinking it a ploy on your part, but she felt that keeping you here in the Keep would allow the guards to better monitor you.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “I would never betray her! Cersei can rot in the seven hells for all I care! The only reason I didn’t kill her is the babe in her belly!”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that. Unfortunately, the one person who doesn’t believe it is the woman in question. Where it concerns your words and actions towards Brienne, you are an idiot.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jaime sighed. “Can it not be fixed?”

“What have you tried to do to fix it aside from knocking on her door in the morning?” Sansa’s features were heavy with irritation as her eyes met Jaime’s.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds. She seems unhappy when I’m near, so I try to give her space.”

Tyrion hummed at Jaime’s side. “That’s an understatement. Perhaps try courting her which you never  _ actually  _ did? Perhaps a thoughtful gift. She wouldn’t even need to accept your audience for that. Just leave it in her room if she won’t meet you privately to receive it.”

Nodding slowly, Jaime considered what type of gift Brienne would like. “Do you think I have a chance at this, or does she hate me?”

Sansa’s head tilted slightly as she considered the question. “If she didn’t love you, she would be indifferent towards you. She’s avoiding you because the pain is too raw. To me, that would suggest she loves you.”

A slight hope sparked in Jaime. Leaving the couple in Tyrion’s room, Jaime considered what would make Brienne happy. His first instinct was to get something for the babe to show that she and their little one meant everything to him, but he thought better of it.

_ She’ll think the gift is only for the babe and not her. It needs to be about her. _

Pacing in his room, Jaime considered other gifts. Brienne did not strike him the type that would want flowers or jewelry. For Brienne, it seemed she preferred weapons and armor to such things. Then Jaime had an idea.

Jaime left the Keep and made the trip back into the city. He recalled hearing the tale of how she bested Loras in the melee at Bitterbridge using a morningstar. It occurred to Jaime that if she elected to enter the melee with a morningstar in favor of a sword, Brienne was likely more skilled with that weapon than any other.

As impressive as the thought was, Jaime never saw her wield one. He wanted to buy her one of high quality that would match Oathkeeper. Knowing the best smith in the city, Jaime made his way there.

Thankfully, that section of the city was largely unscathed. Jaime found the shop he had in mind and was pleased to see the smith there. He had known the man for some years, and Jaime knew his weapons to be of high quality. After speaking with the man, Jaime found the perfect weapon, but he wanted an adjustment made.

The morningstar that Jaime liked had an ornate hilt. While not as impressive as the hilt of Oathkeeper, there was intricate detailing at the bottom and through the grip. He and the smith spoke for some time about it, and Jaime was able to get him to add sapphires into the hilt after Jaime purchased some of the gems from another merchant.

The effort took the entirety of the day, and Jaime was quite tired by the time he returned to the Keep. Despite his stomach’s protest at the lack of food, Jaime moved quickly to his room. Brienne always took to bed early, and Jaime hoped she repeated the behavior that evening. He prayed to the Seven that she would answer his knock at the door.

As Jaime neared his chambers, he saw the Queensguard stationed outside Brienne’s room. He smiled inwardly at the sight knowing that Brienne was inside. Stepping into his room, Jaime noticed the connecting door ajar which was not unusual. Then he heard Brienne laughing.

_ Seven hells. She’s likely with Sansa or Arya. _

Approaching the door to shut it and afford the women privacy, Jaime felt his heart stop when he heard Ned’s voice.

_ Why the fuck is he in her room!? That is hardly decent. _

Brienne laughed louder than before, and Jaime felt the familiar pang of jealousy. As he moved to shut the door, the laughter from inside Brienne’s room stopped. Jaime’s hand came to the door handle and his heart stopped at the sight of Ned kissing Brienne.

Backing away slowly, Jaime dropped the gift on the bed and left his room quickly. He needed to be anywhere but there. All the excitement and hope from earlier shattered with his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the angst for poor Jaime! This is (as always) a Braime fic and they'll get past this. I promise. There is no Brienne/Ned in this outside of what poor Ned hoped for the in prior chapter.


	21. The Demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei is now seven months pregnant in the cells, but Jaime should believe her nearing term. She comes up with an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a Cersei POV, I'm going to try and double post around midday to get back to Braime. These chapters (19-23) are all happening within the same 24-48 hours, so it gets difficult to break them up.

Darkness. Darkness and cold. That was all Cersei knew. At seven moons pregnant, Cersei wondered at what was taking Jaime so long to rescue her. From the lie Cersei fed him, Jaime should believe her ready to deliver any day now. It seemed absurd that he had yet to free her.

_ Where is he!? What is taking him so long to slit that miserable cow’s throat. Perhaps the dolt forgot how long a pregnancy is meant to last. Gods he has always been the stupidest Lannister. _

Cersei knew that she needed a way to communicate with Jaime. He needed reminding of the immediate need for aid. Pacing the short distance afforded by the chains, Cersei scowled and muttered to herself.

The filth of the cell grew worse by the day. With only an infrequently cleaned chamber pot afforded to her, Cersei had taken to pissing in the straw to ensure the pot didn’t overflow when she needed it most. The smell of urine seemed to cling to everything around her; her clothing, her person, and her makeshift bedding.

Glancing to the tray from the prior night’s supper, Cersei’s jaw worked in frustration. Aemma’s visits had been less frequent. The other attendants didn’t provide Cersei’s preferred cuts of meat and side dishes.

_ This is absurd. I’m a queen! They better not be giving my food to that cow! _

The thought of Brienne sent anger coursing through Cersei once more. Her moods were as volatile as the seas and she vacillated between lucidity and madness. At night, Cersei envisioned the many ways she would pick apart the cow piece by piece.

She would sit from atop her throne as her new army surrounded her and dismantled the usurpers that dared steal her crown. Jaime would be at her side and they would once again form a new pride of lions.

The familiar sound of keys sounded in the distance. Cersei had memorized the amount of steps it took Aemma to make the walk to her cell. Cersei muttered to herself as she paced.

“Eight and seventy. Eight and seventy paces for the girl. Less steps for the guards.”

Cersei counted in her head. She counted and waited for the answer to her unasked question.

_ Who comes for me today? _

At eight and seventy steps, Cersei cackled triumphantly. “Yes! Finally, you return you miserable shit! Open the door!”

Within a matter of moments, the cell door creaked open to reveal Aemma. The young woman had a tray balanced on her arms. She was so focused on not dropping the food that she hardly noticed Cersei’s mad stare tracking her movements.

As she did on prior visits, Aemma set down the tray and produced a parchment from her pocket. Cersei saw her opening and took it. Lunging forward, she wrapped her chain around Aemma’s neck and pulled her to the floor.

The chamber pot sloshed onto Cersei’s back, drenching her in excrement. So lost in her need for information was Cersei, that hardly noticed the smell of shit wafting through the cell and clinging to her dress.

Speaking in hushed tones, Cersei pressed her lips to the girl’s ear.

“Enough of the fucking papers. You’ll speak or I’ll strangle you here and now. Do you understand?”

Aemma’s hands reached up for Cersei’s wrists as she began to panic and flop around. With a nod of understanding, Aemma spluttered in Cersei’s arms.

Cersei loosened her grip just enough to ensure Aemma didn’t faint before sharing the vital information.

“Tell me what the missive says. That bloody torch you leave outside the cell isn’t sufficient lighting and I’m sick of waiting for the one fucking hour per day that I can see.”

Aemma’s voice was low and rattled as she responded quickly. “Euron sent word. He's treated successfully with the Iron Bank. With the funds secured, he has sailed southeast to procure a new army of sellswords. He hopes to return to Westeros in just under two moon turns.”

_ Two moons! Two fucking moons is two moon turns too long! _

Rage coursed through Cersei as she considered the implications. She would need to deliver the babe in the cells and pray to the gods that Lannister blood washed away the stains of kraken features. Muttering to herself once more, Aemma struggled in Cersei’s arms.

“What, your grace?”

Realizing she had been speaking aloud, Cersei leaned into Aemma’s ear once more. “Two moons is too long. The babe will be here and that cow will kill me off if Jaime doesn’t come for me first. What news of them? My brother and the cow?”

Cersei could feel Aemma swallow thickly. The young woman struggled slightly and pushed at the chains against her throat.

“The false queen still refuses your brother. Rumors swirl that the envoy from Dorne is sweet on her. It torments your brother.”

A wide smile spread across Cersei’s face. “Yes. I bet it does. Now is the time. It’s perfect.”

“What’s perfect, your grace?”

At the question, Cersei’s mind began to spin with possibilities. She rocked slightly in excitement at the potential to sow seeds of discord within the Keep.

“Tell Euron’s plant to recruit more loyalists. I’ll be able to sway my brother now, but we need more people. I need more people to ensure my safety if this babe arrives before Euron returns.”

Aemma coughed slightly. It was only then that Cersei realized she had been tightening the chains around Aemma’s neck once more. Loosening the grip, Cersei waited to ensure that Aemma understood the instructions.

“Your grace, he has been trying. He has approached several people, but they are all loyal to the new queen. The people… they love her, your grace.”

The words sent Cersei into a rage. She tightened her hold on Aemma once more and spat at the girl through gritted teeth. The smell of excrement assaulted the senses of both women as Cersei rocked backwards and into the chamber pot once more.

“No one can love that beast. Do you hear me? She is weak and she will die. Jaime will do it. He’ll kill her for me.”

Aemma whimpered slightly as the chains pressed firm to her throat. Realizing she couldn’t kill Aemma quite yet, Cersei loosened her grip.

“Listen to me. I need a parchment and quill. I must get a letter to my brother. Do you understand me?”

Aemma nodded slowly as Cersei removed the chains from around Aemma’s neck. “Take this chamber pot with you. It needs changing.”

Reaching for the chamber pot, Cersei shoved it into Aemma’s arms. “Tell them I need a new one immediately and return before the day is out. I want that letter in my brother’s hands within the next day. We need to act quickly.”

Scrambling from the cell, Cersei began to pace the small space wildly. A wide smile was plastered to her face as she considered the possibilities.

_ Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Jaime will free me with the help of Euron’s plant. We’ll flee to someplace safe until Euron brings me a new army. Then we’ll kill the cow. _

Cersei considered Aemma’s words. It seemed laughable to Cersei that her golden twin would despair over the cow refuting him. Her Jaime with his two hands, golden body, and cutting remarks would mock the beast.

_ That’s what it is. He is putting on a show for them. Making it seem like he desires that cow. Of course he would never love something so pathetic as her. _

Dropping to her knees, Cersei began to devour the offered meal. She knew it would be important to keep her energy up in anticipation of the rescue to come.

Soon, Cersei would take back all she holds dear. The crown. Her golden twin.

_ Our love will restore my crippled twin. He’ll come for me. My Jaime with two hands. My golden lion _


	22. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne finds out that Jaime knows about Ned's kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has NSFW content
> 
> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Chapter 21 - The Demand)

The cool morning air kissed Brienne’s skin as she made her way into the city. After the awkwardness with Ned the night prior, Brienne wanted to clear her mind. She was pleased to see neither Ned nor Jaime on her way into the courtyard that morning.

They moved slowly in relative silence as the city slowly came to life. At Brienne’s side, Pod eyed her suspiciously.

“What is it, Podrick? I can hear that mind of yours working.”

Pod chuckled and took a deep breath. “I just… I don’t know if I should tell you something.”

“Well, you’ve just stated, so why stop now.”

Brienne offered a small smile at her former squire turned Queensguard. He was a good friend. In truth, Brienne thought Pod her truest friend in this world. For as much as other areas of Brienne’s life had gone to shit lately, her circle of friends was growing.

Never before had Brienne felt more supported than in recent weeks. Her blossoming friendship with Grey Worm, the Hound, and Arya were evidence enough of that. Then there was Ned. Handsome, kind, honorable, and witty Ned. Ned who fancied Brienne. The thought was strange. Aside from Tormund, no one ever seemed to show genuine interest in her.

Just the thought of the young lord made Brienne’s guilt return. She felt guilty for unknowingly leading Ned to think that they could ever be more than friends. She felt guilty for unintentionally betraying her vows to Jaime; even if he wouldn’t likely consider the act a betrayal.

Pod took a deep breath and looked to Brienne as their horses rode side by side. “It’s about Ser Jaime.”

_ Gods. Just thinking of him conjures his name from the lips of others. Ridiculous. _

“What of him?”

With a slight grimace, Pod continued. “I was with Lord Tyrion last night. We were taking drinks in his chambers and Ser Jaime came in. I’ve never seen him so upset.”

Brienne felt her chest tighten. After Jaime’s behavior yesterday, Brienne imagined that Jhe aime was despairing over Cersei. The former queen was nearing the end of her pregnancy and Brienne had wondered if Cersei should be moved to a more appropriate space.

_ No one should have to birth a babe in a filthy cell. _

“Yes, well I imagine he’s quite anxious about his sister. She’s to have the babe soon.”

Pod snorted and shook his head. “I don’t know if he recalls his sister’s presence is in the cells. That’s not it.”

The words surprised Brienne. Looking to Pod, she raised a brow. Whatever occupied his thoughts seemed to pain the young man.

“No matter what, I’m on your side in this. He did not treat you as he should have, but last night he came into the room upset about  _ you _ . He was… crying.”

_ Crying? Jaime Lannister was crying? Now I’ve heard it all. _

“What could he possibly have to be upset about?”

Pod cleared his throat and looked around at their escorting party. He leaned towards Brienne and spoke in hushed tones. “He saw you and Lord Ned.”

An overwhelming heat surged up Brienne’s neck and face. Brienne quickly averted her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I… that was a mistake. I didn’t know Lord Ned would try to…” Brienne glanced to Pod as she whispered. “Kiss me. I refused him though.”

Pod shrugged. “I don’t think you did anything wrong. You have your arrangement with Ser Jaime. It’s your right to do as you please with Lord Ned.”

Brienne gasped and shook her head in refute. “No. I swore vows, Pod. I set those terms for Ser Jaime’s benefit. I have no desire to take advantage of them.”

“Well judging by his reaction, Ser Jaime has no desire to take advantage of the terms either. As much as I’ve dreamed of beating him to a pulp, I feel badly for him. He loves you very much, my lady. Ser. Uh… your grace.”

“Gods, Pod. My name is Brienne.” Brienne rolled her eyes, but a fond smile spread across her face as she glanced to Pod. Brienne’s smile faded as she responded to Pod’s opinion on the matter.

“I think Ser Jaime is upset at the reminder that I  _ could  _ take advantage of our terms, whereas he can’t. His love is in the cells.”

Pod sighed loudly. “No. I really don’t think that’s it at all. At Winterfell, it was obvious how much he cared for you. He sought me to ask after you. He wanted to know how you were, of our travels, and anything I learned about you. I’m sorry to have told him about the ball with Renly, but he wanted to know if you still felt for the man. His reason for wanting to know seemed rather obvious to me. He’s in love with you. I think that’s why I was so upset at him for doing what he did. You could have been happy together and he ruined it all.”

Brienne huffed in frustration. It wasn’t the first time that others were convinced of Jaime’s contrived affection for her. The Stark sisters, Tyrion, and even Grey Worm had noted it. Genna seemed to think as much too.

_ Why can none of them see the truth of it? They haven’t seen Jaime as I have. They haven’t seen him fevered and broken at the loss of his hand, calling out for Cersei. They haven’t heard him brag to Lady Catelyn of his fidelity to Cersei. They haven’t been left crying in a courtyard after being told all the things that he has done for his sister. Do the Stark sisters even know what he did to Bran for Cersei? _

Changing the subject, Brienne asked after less emotionally straining topics. The rest of the morning passed quickly in the city and Brienne was glad to have the break from the Keep. When they returned, Brienne made her way towards the small council room.

The special council was attending a small council meeting to share an update on the kingdoms. Much progress had been made, and Brienne was excited to share some of the ideas agreed upon with the special council. Knowing that Jaime saw Ned kiss her the night prior, a slight anxiety gnawed at Brienne when she entered the room.

_ Does he think me a whore? I let him in my bed for a moon turn with no promises and now he saw Ned kiss me. Does he think we did more than kiss? _

Taking her seat, Brienne avoided looking at either man. Castle staff brought in lunch for the table before the meeting began. Brienne thanked the gods as her appetite had reached new levels.

The special council began sharing updates once everyone was settled. Taking in the information, the small council seemed impressed at the progress made. Each delegate then began providing an update from their kingdom.

When it was Ned’s turn to speak, the young lord smiled at the group and shared information from Dorne.

“I’ve written Ser Manfrey and informed him of the state of things. They will send fruits and grains to the city to help feed those in need. I’ve thought about staying a while longer to ensure it gets distributed.”

From down the table, Jaime snorted loudly and muttered. “Of course you will.”

An awkward silence fell over the room at Jaime’s outburst. For the first time since arriving, Brienne glanced at Jaime. He sat with his arms crossed and a slight slouch to his posture. The clothes he wore looked as disheveled as the rest of him. His eyes looked to the ceiling, but Brienne could see they were red and puffy.

_ Gods. Pod wasn’t lying about the crying. _

A pang of guilt hit Brienne. She never wanted to see Jaime hurting. From Jaime’s side, Genna scolded him to shut up. After a moment of silence, Ned slowly continued.

“We might be able to find placement for some of the orphans. In Dorne, we have nobles who lost their heirs in the wars. Queen Brienne and I were thinking they might seek to adopt some of the children who lost parents in the siege.”

Jaime huffed at the other end of the table. “Oh good. Let's make their lives more troubled by removing them from the only place they’ve ever lived, and shipping them off to  _ Dorne _ .”

Brienne felt her anger stir. It seemed that no matter what Ned said, Jaime only meant to contest him.

At Brienne’s side, Ned spoke defensively. “So in your opinion, a child should be left parentless because  _ you _ are not fond of  _ Dorne _ .” Ned’s tone had an undercurrent that suggested Jaime spoke to more than the orphans of the city. Judging by Jaime’s reaction, it seemed that he intended as much.

“Perhaps  _ Dorne _ is overstepping its bounds!”

Standing abruptly, Brienne’s eyes narrowed at Jaime. “Everyone out. The consort does not reflect the opinions of the crown and I need to speak with him privately.”

It was rare that Brienne allowed anger to get the best of her. She usually hated making a scene, but Brienne did not like where the conversation was headed. At the unusual outburst, the room cleared out quickly. Even Arya looked eager to remove herself from the situation.

Brienne stared at Jaime from the opposite end of the table. Rage simmered deep within as her eyes narrowed at him.

“What is your problem!? Ned’s idea would offer homes to displaced children. Homes of nobles who could afford to provide the children with love and opportunity. They could never receive such opportunities in a city orphanage!”

Jaime glanced at her then. His breathing was labored with anger as a reply formed on his tongue. “Perhaps you and Ned can just take in a brood of them. He seems quite content to stay in the city… for  _ diplomatic _ reasons of course.”

Brienne’s fist balled at her side. She had half a mind to hurl the jug of water down the table at him. Before she could think better of it, the retort flew from her mouth.

“You sound quite jealous!”

At the callback to Winterfell, Jaime leapt from his chair and glared at Brienne. “I do, don’t I!”

“You simply can’t afford me any happiness, can you!? I’m to spend a life alone and miserable while you pine away for your sister.” At the mention of Cersei, Brienne’s voice dripped with bitterness. She watched as Jaime rounded the table and marched towards her.

“You seemed quite happy last night breaking your vows with your new  _ friend _ .”

As Jaime moved close, Brienne envisioned punching him in the face. She had never both hated and loved someone so strongly within the same moment. 

“We set terms from the start about this sham marriage! No one forced you into it!”

“Where in the terms did it state you would refuse me at all requests!? You won’t afford me any of your time! I have to greet you in the morning through the Queensguard. I have to bid you goodnight through a fucking door! Everything you have to give, you give to Ned. It seems I’m fated to spend my entire life watching from afar while the woman I love chases another! It was no different with Cersei.”

At the comparison to Cersei, Brienne felt something snap within. She may have been many things, but she was not Cersei.

“How dare you compare me to  _ her _ ! I defended you before all the North when they called for your head! I spent every moment at your side when you had no one else to turn to! I let you use me as a whore when it pleased you. I let you flee in the middle of the night to get to the only woman who has ever mattered to you.”

Jaime’s eyes flooded with a mix of anger and pain. He shook his head and yelled. “I did not use you as a whore! You could never be that! I’ve never once sought out a woman for any reason other than love! It broke me to leave you and return south to kill Cersei!”

“You loving me and wishing to kill Cersei is as believable as Cersei wishing for peace!”

Without warning, Jaime surged forward and pressed his lips to Brienne’s. When she stumbled backwards in shock, Jaime’s arms wrapped around her waist. The feel of Jaime’s lips pressed against hers was everything that Ned’s kiss could never be.

Reprimanding herself, Brienne shoved Jaime away hard. Hurt flooded his eyes as he questioned her. 

“You want to have it annulled? You want to end this  _ political _ marriage for Ned!?

“For Ned? Like you would prefer to only love and act  _ for Cersei _ ?”

At the words, Jaime’s eyes went wide and he moved back into her space once more. “I told you that I lied! I lied about my intentions for leaving to keep you safe! I love you and  _ only _ you.”

“Yet you got your sister pregnant and didn’t tell me? Yet you secreted her away to safety for a moon turn? You never lied to me at Winterfell about your feelings for me or your sister. I was the whore to warm your bed and she is the love of your life! Don’t start lying now as an attempt to keep this charade going!”

“I’m not lying to you!” Jaime’s proximity was dizzying as he stepped toe to toe with Brienne. His eyes misted and his voice was heavy with tears as he continued. “I lied to keep you safe! I will never regret trying to keep you safe, but I regret how much it hurt you.”

“You’re not lying to me, yet you admit to lying to me? Which one is it Jaime!? I can hardly keep up with when you’re lying, and when you’re lying about lying!”

Jaime’s eyes were desperate as he grabbed Brienne’s head with his flesh hand. “I’m not lying about loving you, but I lied about why I left! I lied thinking it for the best. To keep you safe! Nothing good ever seems to come from my love!”

Again, Brienne shoved him away, but Jaime came right back in her face as Brienne spoke.

“You don’t lie to keep people safe! If you truly love someone, you tell them the truth!”

Jaime’s right arm wrapped around Brienne’s waist as his left hand came to her cheek. “I would  _ do so much _ worse than lie if I thought it would keep you safe! I would do anything for you! I would kill my own sister for you! I would  _ die  _ for you!”

The words shocked Brienne. Before she could process it, Jaime’s lips were on hers once more. Try as she might, she couldn’t push him away. Moons of pent up pain and love and anger gave way to desire. Brienne’s heart and body screamed for her to accept Jaime’s words when her mind could never fathom it.

Frantic hands tore at clothing as Jaime and Brienne worked hastily to remove the layers between them. Shoving Brienne’s breeches and smallclothes down, Jaime’s flesh hand traveled up her tunic towards her breast.

As Brienne made quick work of Jaime’s breeches, they each toed off their boots as their smallclothes and breeches pooled to the floor.

Jaime’s right arm which had been around her waist reached out to swipe everything off the table. The sound of plates, jugs, cups, and silverware clattered loudly to the floor. Leaning over Brienne, Jaime lifted Brienne backwards onto the wooden surface.

Frenzied lips assaulted Brienne’s face as Jaime shoved his cock into her urgently. A desperate need for unity consumed them as Jaime began thrusting rapidly into Brienne.

Everything felt incredible and Brienne’s body responded instantly. Heat pooled in her core as Jaime’s hand moved below the swell at her belly to find her sensitive nub. With a gasp, Brienne’s back arched on the table and Jaime shoved up her tunic to expose her breasts.

Taking one of her nipples in mouth as he continued thrusting where their bodies joined, Jaime’s warm tongue and lips elicited a cry of ecstasy from Brienne. At her reaction, Jaime moaned and buried himself impossibly deeper as he released Brienne’s nipple.

Standing upright, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hip and pumped harder as he hit that spot which always sent Brienne spiraling. The pregnancy had an overwhelming effect on Brienne’s desire for Jaime. Every touch felt deeper than usual. Every kiss felt more passionate. She could already feel her walls tightening as her pleasure built.

Leaning back over her, Jaime scooped Brienne into his arms and lifted her from the table. With Brienne’s legs around his waist, they moved backwards until Jaime’s legs bumped the edge of a chair. Sitting with Brienne astride him, Jaime took Brienne’s breast in his mouth once more. His tongue pushed tantalizingly against Brienne’s pebbled nipple. Brienne tipped her head back and began moving atop Jaime.

As she neared release, Brienne fell into a rhythm on Jaime’s lap. She could feel his body straining under her fingertips as he tried to control his movements. It felt as though he was trying to hold himself back from bucking his hips wildly into Brienne.

A familiar tightening in her core signaled Brienne’s imminent release. Her body tensed as she moved faster atop Jaime. She wanted more of Jaime and seemed unable to get enough. His hand moved between their bodies and applied the sweetest pressure to her nub as his right arm held her securely.

When Brienne found her release, she moaned against the side of Jaime’s head as her fingers gripped his shoulders. His lips desperately sought hers as he began to lift his hips from the seat, driving into her slowing rhythm. Brienne could feel his body leaning backwards. The chair lifted and leaned on its back legs, and before either of them could shift their weight to counterbalance it, they were falling to the floor.

With a loud thud, the chair hit the ground as Jaime held Brienne tightly to him. On impact, the back of the chair broke and pieces scattered away. The shock snapped Brienne from whatever lust driven frenzy they had been in. Before she could say anything, Jaime’s hand lifted to her face; his eyes panicked as he searched hers in question.

“Are you alright!? The babe…”

Jaime’s eyes drifted to her swell as Brienne shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Rolling Brienne to her back, Jaime cupped her jaw and kissed her. The desperation previously driving him quelled as Jaime began to move slower and deeper in her. Their eyes locked and Brienne feared what she saw.

It was the same raw, soft expression he had on his face at Winterfell when they came together. An expression that had always stirred something deep within and made Brienne long for it to mean something more than it ever could.

“I love you, Brienne. So much.” Jaime’s voice was barely a whisper as he pushed impossibly deeper and Brienne felt she may find release again. As Jaime angled differently, his body put an excruciatingly pleasurable pressure on her nub.

Afraid of the look in his eyes, Brienne tried to look away, but Jaime’s hand caught her jaw gently and turned her face towards his. His eyes looked more open than ever before, but a pounding at the door drew their attention. Pod’s voice called out.

“Your grace, are you alright? We heard some loud crashes.”

_ Fuck. Not now. _

Jaime’s lips dove back to Brienne’s as he pushed deeper. His own moans were swallowed by Brienne as his movements quickened. Spilling into her, Jaime collapsed as far as the swell at Brienne’s belly would allow.

Brienne was lost in all things Jaime. It hurt to love him as much as she did. She wanted for nothing more than to believe all his words. The pent-up tension between them felt both sated and unresolved.

Then Brienne heard a voice far too close for her liking. “You grace?”

Pod’s head came into view as he peered around the door.

“Get the fuck out, Pod!” Jaime screamed and it didn’t take asking twice for Pod to slam the door shut. It occurred to Brienne that she never answered Pod’s initial question checking on her safety. The unmistakable laugh of Arya drifted under the door as other voices outside were soon replaced by fast retreating footsteps.

_ Seven take me now. _


	23. The Response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne talk after their "fight". Jaime learns something new.

Jaime helped Brienne from the floor. Their faces were red from exertion and embarrassment. He silently gathered their discarded clothing and brought it to Brienne. Every part of Jaime wanted to hold her close and never let go, but the look on her face suggested that would not be happening anytime soon.

They dressed quickly and tried to appear less disheveled from the frenzied coupling. Clearing his throat, Jaime looked to Brienne through his lashes.

“Well I imagine the meeting won’t be resuming. Can I walk you to your room?”

Brienne hesitated at the request. Inner turmoil played out on her face as she glanced at Jaime warily. Worried she would refuse him, Jaime spoke quickly.

“Please. Just a moment more of your time. You can scowl at me the entire way if you like.” Jaime offered his arm and sent a silent plea to the Seven that she would accept it. Trying to force playfulness to his tone, Jaime spoke once more. “We can make our walk of shame together.”

The faintest laugh pushed past Brienne’s lips and Jaime felt as though he may melt to the floor. If making fun of himself granted a reaction so precious, he would do it every day for the rest of his life.

With a nod of concession, Brienne took his offered arm. They moved towards the door and Jaime reached out with his flesh hand to open it.

They stepped into the hallway to see only the Queensguard on duty and the Stark sisters remained. If Jaime didn’t know the Hound better, he would think the man was biting back a laugh. His face contorted slightly as though trying to will away the humor in the situation.

Pod appeared as pale as Jaime had ever seen him. Paler even than after the battle against the dead. At the end of the hallway, curious eyes of the castle staff peered around the corner before darting away.

_ Great. The entire Keep heard or saw that. _

It was Arya who broke the silence with a knowing smile. “Get it all sorted out?”

Jaime glanced at Brienne from the corner of his eye. A blush spread across her face as she looked to the floor. Trying to remove the attention from Brienne, Jaime met Arya’s prying eyes and furrowed his brows.

“Master of Whisperers, why don’t you go whisper to the staff about the state of the room. Offer them my apologies. I dropped something.”

Without awaiting what was bound to be a sarcastic reply from the young wolf, Jaime tugged Brienne forward. They moved quickly through the Keep and towards Brienne’s chambers. When they arrived, Jaime moved inside and shut the door behind them.

The sight of the chaise lounge sent a fresh wave of hurt through his chest. An unwelcome image of Ned’s lips on Brienne’s pushed to the forefront of his mind.

“Can we speak for a bit?”

With a sigh, Brienne muttered more to herself than Jaime. “Fine.”

Jaime followed Brienne into the room, but when she moved to sit in the lounge, Jaime faltered. “Just… not there. Please.”

Realization dawned in Brienne’s eyes and she sighed. “I didn’t… that wasn’t what it looked like.”

Putting up a defensive hand, Jaime shook his head. “As you said, it’s within your right.”

“I didn’t sleep with Ned! That isn’t who I am. He… he kissed me, and I pushed him away. Rather convenient you didn’t see all that. I did not set those terms for my benefit, nor do I wish to take advantage of them. It was for you.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would I want that? I was the one begging for your hand. You’re the one who hates me.”

“I told you before, Jaime. I don’t hate you. I hate the way you behave and speak to me at times, but I don’t hate you as a person. I’m also not like  _ her _ . I’ll not seek out others to warm my bed.”

As Brienne sat at the corner table, Jaime moved to sit opposite her. “I didn’t mean to compare you to her earlier. I was angry and… hurt.”

It was difficult to express such vulnerable emotions to anyone, let alone the woman who stirred such thoughts in him. Glancing at Brienne, Jaime noted her trepidation.

With a deep sigh, Jaime leaned forward. “I don’t know how to make this right. Of course, I should have told you about the babe, but I truly didn’t think it was real when I left. I hadn’t loved Cersei in a long time. I was weak and I fucked it all up. I’m sorry that I hurt you so deeply, but I can’t regret trying to keep you safe.”

“The only way to right this is to stop lying. Stop pretending at things which can never be. That hurts more. I’ve had Cersei in a cell for near two moons and no harm has befallen her. I’ll ensure she births the babe safely. I’ll not take the babe from you. I can’t save her though. I keep telling you this.”

Desperation coursed through Jaime as he recalled Sansa’s words from before. It pained Jaime to know that Brienne thought she was being used.

Reaching for Brienne’s hand, Jaime grabbed it tightly and squeezed. “I don’t want Cersei. Please, Brienne. What can I do?”

Brienne shook her head and slouched back in her chair. She appeared to be at war with herself. “I don’t know. What happened in council can’t happen again.”

Hanging his head, Jaime took a steadying breath. He refused to let Brienne go without a fight, but he wanted her happy more than anything. “Would Ned make you happy?”

The question caught her by surprise. While still gripping Brienne’s hand, Jaime felt her flinch. “No. I don’t want to be with Ned or anyone else.”

“Can you let me try to win you back? Please. Let me court you properly.”

Brienne seemed uncertain at the request. Shuffling his chair closer, Jaime stared at her. “I’ll do anything, Brienne. I want you to believe my words. I love you. Let me try. Just spend some time with me.”

A resolve broke in Brienne’s features as she considered it. When she looked to him, there was something in her eyes that gave Jaime hope. A softening that had not been there since his return to the Keep.

“We can break out fast together in the mornings.”

“Alright. Thank you. Can I give you something? I have it in my room.”

Without awaiting a response, Jaime released Brienne’s hand and stood from his chair. He moved into his room and grabbed the morningstar that he threw onto the bed the night prior. Moving back into the room, Jaime stared at the back of Brienne’s neck as her head hung slightly.

Jaime placed the morningstar on the table and sat back down. “I heard you beat Loras with a morningstar, though I’ve never seen you wield one. I thought you might like it.”

Brienne’s reaction was difficult to read. She stared at the weapon wide-eyed; her fingers reaching out to touch the hilt. At the uncertainty in Brienne’s eyes, Jaime felt his heart sink.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll get rid of it.”

Brienne gripped the hilt and appraised the weapon. A slight wonder shone in her eyes as she inspected it. “It’s lovely, but why are you giving this to me?”

“I know that I never courted you properly, but you deserve it. I regret making you feel… used. I’m not very good at these things. I suppose I’ve never really known  _ how  _ to court anyone. I’ve never tried.”

Brienne seemed to consider the words. A small smile tugged at her lips that took Jaime’s breath away. “Thank you. It’s much higher quality than my last. Are those… sapphires…”

Inspecting the hilt, Brienne’s brows furrowed. Once again, Jaime’s mind wandered back to the awful things that Brienne thought about herself. His tongue felt tied as he tried to form a response that both reflected how he felt, but didn’t seem disingenuous to Brienne.

“Yes, I had the smith add some. They remind me of you; of your eyes. The gems aren’t as beautiful of course.”

Brienne’s eyes darted to him; the very sapphire pools that always took his breath away. It took every bit of restraint to not close the distance and kiss her once more. A loud knock at the door caught their attention. Unlike earlier, Brienne called out.

“Yes. Come in.”

Stepping into the room, Sansa and Genna smirked slightly. Sansa’s eyes darted to Jaime. “Knocking goes a long way. Thought I might try it.”

Jaime knew the words were a double meaning for Pod’s intrusion as well as his own when Tyrion and Sansa were otherwise engaged in a very important  _ conversation _ .

With a slight huff, Jaime lowered his eyes. It was his aunt’s teasing voice that captured his attention once more. 

“Ah Jaime, I’m glad to see you’ve kept your breeches on for this little meeting. Now if you don’t mind, you’ll need to leave. We have much to discuss with Brienne before tomorrow’s feast.”

“Feast? What feast?” Jaime looked questioningly to the women. It occurred to Jaime that perhaps he was meant to be left out from such an event.

Sansa and Genna looked to Jaime as though he was half mad. The scrutinizing eyes of the women made Jaime feel like a greater dolt than he already thought himself to be. In a small voice beside him, Brienne enlightened Jaime as to the reason for the feast.

“It’s not so important really. Just a supper before most of the special council leaves the city.”

Something in Brienne’s answer made Jaime think she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. Glancing to Genna and Sansa, their reactions seemed to indicate as much. Realizing that perhaps he was simply not invited, Jaime stood and nodded at Brienne.

“Right then. So tomorrow?” Jaime hoped that his voice didn’t sound too desperate. His eyes searched Brienne for affirmation of their agreement.

With a small smile, Brienne nodded. “Yes. Thank you for the morningstar. It’s far too kind.”

_ Not kind enough. _

Grabbing Brienne’s hand, Jaime placed his lips to her knuckles. A slight pink touched Brienne’s cheeks that made Jaime’s heart skip a beat. Jaime was determined to make the most of every offered meal with Brienne. He hoped to fully regain her trust. For now, he would need to take whatever she offered.

Moving into his room, Jaime sat down and replayed the day’s events in his mind. He worried at Brienne’s discomfort over what transpired between them. She was not someone who liked to draw attention to herself and it seemed they did quite a lot of that.

In many ways, it didn’t feel like man and wife coming together. They felt like an unwed couple squabbling over insecurities and commitment on each side. Jaime never wanted Brienne to feel like that again. His outburst in the meeting had been unacceptable. Annoyingly, Jaime knew that he owed Ned an apology.

Jaime’s mind returned to the feast being discussed next door. He wondered if he would be allowed to attend and what it was truly for. Given the growing relationship between Tyrion and Sansa, Jaime thought to visit his little brother and inquire after the event.

As he stood to leave, a small knock came at his door. Jaime bid the person enter and observed a young attendant slip into the room. The girl looked young and tired; her clothing covered in all manner of stains.

“M’lord. Apologies to bother ya. I was sent with this missive for ya.”

The young woman produced an unsealed piece of parchment. As his eyes scanned the paper, the penmanship gave away the sender. Cersei.

_ Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you as I have never needed you before. I love you, I love you, I love you. Come at once. _

Handing the missive back to the woman, Jaime’s eyes narrowed at her. “Where did you get this?”

“One of the girls who works the kitchens. She told me to bring it to ya and ask if ya had a reply.”

Jaime was hardly surprised. For years Cersei had planted loyalists throughout the Keep; particularly in the kitchens. It was likely the girl brought Cersei her food throughout the day.

“A reply? Throw it in the fire.”

Jaime pushed past the girl to leave, but took pause. “On second thought, you’re coming with me after you throw that in the fire.”

An uneasy expression lined the girl’s features. Doing as she was bid, the young woman tossed the parchment in the fire and followed Jaime from the room. 

As they walked down the hallway, Jaime spoke curtly. “What is your name?”

“Jeyne, m’lord.”

Jaime snorted. The name was likely a lie. Considering some of the attendants who served under his sister, Jaime could vaguely place her.

Turning a corner, Jaime arrived outside the door he sought. He knocked loudly and appraised the young woman.

“Word of warning. If I were you, I wouldn't lie to this one. She’ll tear your face off.”

The girl’s eyes went wide as the door to the room opened. Standing on the other side with a wolfish grin was Arya. “Somehow this end of you doesn’t look as pretty.”

With a slight huff, Jaime grabbed the young woman’s arm and tugged her inside. “This one here calls herself Jeyne. I trust you’ll figure out her real name easily enough. She just brought me a letter from my delightful sister in the black cells seeking my aid. Either she is being truthful in stating the letter was given to her by another attendant, or she is in fact the one helping Cersei communicate. Either way, I’m certain you’ll figure it out.”

A vicious smile tugged at Arya’s face as she stared at the young woman. “Perfect. I’ve already gotten to six of them. Mayhaps I’ll collect two more today. Thank you, Ser Jaime.”

_ Gods she is frightening. _

Jaime left the room as quickly as he arrived. Moving towards Tyrion’s room, Jaime knocked and awaited his brother’s direction to enter. The sound of shuffling feet on the other side gave away Tyrion’s occupation of the room.

“Who is it?”

Jaime raised a brow and leaned against the door. “Your favorite sibling.”

“ _ Ah, goodsister _ ! Your voice sounds lower to the ground than usual. Come in.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and moved into the room. As he entered, Tyrion stood at the desk pouring two glasses of wine. His back was to Jaime as he called back over his shoulder.

“ _Your_ _Grace_. I had a feeling you would seek me out after my brother’s perverse behavior. I’m thinking a day of mourning for the chair would be the proper thing to do. The poor thing never stood a chance with the two of you atop it.”

Biting his lip, Jaime muttered all manner of obscenities as he glared at his brother. “Do you people truly have nothing better to do than listen to a married couple’s argument?”

Tyrion chuckled as he turned to face Jaime with a cup of wine in each hand. “If  _ that _ is arguing, I hope to  _ quarrel _ with Sansa hourly.” 

Handing Jaime a cup, Tyrion smirked at his older brother. A knowing glint in his eye. “Are you  _ satisfied _ with the outcome?”

“Can we skip to the end where you’ve finished with your quips?”

Tyrion scoffed in mock offense. “Brother, you wound me. I truly hope you both were able to  _ release _ all that tension. Truly, you needed to just  _ get it all on _ the table. Really  _ push deep _ to the heart of matter. I know it can be  _ hard _ to do, but I’m proud of you.”

“Are you done now?”

Taking a sip of his wine, Tyrion raised a brow. “Was it good?”

Jaime scoffed; his brows raised to his hairline. “What is wrong with you? I’ll not discuss the details of private matters with my wife with you.”

“Gods. You’re no fun. I’m sure it was  _ ass-tounding _ .”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, but Tyrion chuckled and put up a hand. “Don’t worry. Only Pod and Arya saw. The rest of us were, by the grace of the Gods, obscured from the view of my brother’s _ golden assets _ .”

In a reference to yesterday’s conversation, Tyrion’s mirth and features dropped. “I’ve been caught in more compromising positions. Remember?”

A slight grimace stretched across Jaime’s face. “Sorry about that. I was angry. This is the most you’ve spoken to me in weeks! All it took was a minor scene with Brienne to get it.”

“So, are you in trouble? Did our Queen kick you out from your adjoining rooms?”

Jaime shook his head. “I can’t say she is pleased, but no. She isn’t mad. I suppose some good came out of it. She’ll break her fast with me in the mornings.”

Tyrion huffed a small laugh and patted Jaime’s arm. “Ah. So it _ was  _ good then.”

Turning on heel, he walked back to the table and sat down. He patted the empty seat across from him.

“What is so important that you require my advice? Are you worried about her falling pregnant after your little outburst? I can assure you, you won’t need to worry about those consequences  _ this _ time.”

Jaime walked to the table and took the offered seat. “Genna and Sansa came in to see Brienne. They said something about a feast tomorrow. Any idea what that is? Brienne said it was nothing, but their expressions would indicate otherwise.”

Tyrion’s face fell in disappointment. “ _ Truly _ ? Are you this pathetic?”

Shaking his head in confusion, Jaime shrugged. “What did I do now?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Tyrion leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow is your wife’s nameday.”

_ Oh fuck. _

Jaime felt like running himself through with his own sword. “I didn’t know. She never told me when her nameday was.”

Tyrion snorted. “Did you think she was the type to volunteer that information? Ned asked repeatedly. When he finally found out, Ned approached Sansa about it to throw a feast for the queen. Pod knew it was her nameday, but he said she doesn’t care to celebrate it. She never has. Even on Tarth, it just felt another day of potential failure in the eyes of court, so no one pushed her on the matter. Genna, Sansa, and Ned have been planning a small feast which Brienne is trying desperately to avoid.”

“And no one told me?” Jaime extended his arms in frustration; an annoyed shrug accompanying a grumbled complaint.

Tyrion’s tone dripped with sarcasm as he met Jaime’s eyes. “Yes, Jaime. Why did we not think to ask if you know the date of your wife’s nameday?”

“I’m sorry, but it never came up when she was dragging me through the Riverlands in chains. Perhaps when I got my hand cutoff it would have made for interesting conversation?  _ ‘Oh yes, sorry about the puke you have to clean off my beard. When is your nameday by the way?’ _ Yes, that would have been  _ perfect _ timing.”

Ignoring Jaime’s snide comments, Tyrion leaned back in his chair. “Her father will be here tomorrow. It’s a surprise though.”

“Oh Gods. Kill me now. How many people are attending this?”

Tyrion shrugged. “The small council, special council, and Queensguard. Oh, and Selwyn of course. I think he and Gendry thought to invite some of the Stormlands vassals too.”

Jaime felt his spirits fall. “Am  _ I  _ invited?” 


	24. The Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa enjoys some much needed time with the girls before a small council meeting and alone time with Tyrion.

Sansa and Arya smirked knowingly at Brienne. The queen’s cheeks flushed as she tried desperately to avoid their prying eyes. Glancing to Arya, Sansa leaned back in her chair and spoke teasingly.

“Did the staff say if the room could be salvaged?”

Arya’s eyes glistened with mischief in response. “It’s pretty fucked, but they have a team cleaning it down as we speak. Should be fit to use for this afternoon’s small council meeting.”

Sansa hummed in amusement as her eyes darted back to Brienne. Only hours earlier, the small council session had ended abruptly with Jaime’s outburst and Brienne ‘reprimanding’ him. 

Brienne was still trying desperately to look anywhere but at them. Gnawing on her fingernail, Brienne appraised the ceiling as though it contained all the works of the Citadel written across it.

“Brienne, we’re only teasing you. He  _ is _ your husband after all.”

Arya snickered at Sansa’s side. “Is his cock big?”

“Arya!” Sansa’s eyes went wide at the question.

From opposite them, Brienne choked on nothing but air as her face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Don’t be such a priss, Sansa. It’s a fair question.”

Shaking her head, Brienne’s eyes bore into the table. “I’m not answering  _ that _ .”

Humming indifferently, Arya leaned back. “Suit yourself. Gendry’s is quite nice.”

“Arya! Stop it! How have you even seen Gendry’s!?” Sansa was aghast at her sister’s words. Her eyes searched Arya’s face in shock.

“We fucked before the Long Night. I’ll probably fuck him again. He’s been seeking me out, but I’ve been busy.”

Sansa felt her own cheeks pink at the indecency of it all. Surprisingly, it was Brienne who spoke from across the table.

“You did!?”

With a snort, the younger Stark shrugged. “Why not? I had never done it before and felt like it. Why should men get to have all the fun? They can walk around fucking anything that moves, but we get called whores if we bed one man.  _ Fuck that _ .”

Sansa’s brows rose to her hairline. All her life, she had been told to save her maidenhead for marriage. It was expected of young noblewomen, but as it turned out, her best friend and little sister gave theirs to men with no vows nor expectations.

With a huff of annoyance, Brienne crossed her arms. “Most of my life, men ridiculed me for being undesirable. Tyrion mocked my virginity the night of the feast. I’m five and twenty and slept with one man for a moon turn, but now I’m a whore. I hate to think about it, but Pod has slept with more women than that at once.”

Sansa and Arya snorted at the words, but the more Sansa thought about it, the more upset it made her. “It’s true. Why are unwed women whores for sleeping with men they care for, but men can do as they please and no one bats an eye. Ridiculous.”

All three women stewed on the fact. It was unfair and absurd. If it was a law, Sansa would see it changed. Unfortunately, societal expectations and opinions could not be changed with words on parchment.

Arya’s tone became teasing once more as she looked to Brienne. “So, who is better in bed? Ser Jaime or Lord Ned?”

“ _ What!? _ I didn’t sleep with Ned!” Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. She glanced between the Stark sisters; worry writ across her face.

Sansa bit back a laugh. “Ser Jaime seemed to think so. Supposedly he was a bit melodramatic about it. He told Tyrion last night, and Tyrion told me this morning.” With a pointed glare at Arya, Sansa continued.

“I  _ did  _ tell you that was not fact, but merely Ser Jaime’s assumption.”

Brienne’s hand clutched at her chest. “I’m married! I wouldn’t. Ned only kissed me and I pushed him away.”

Arya shrugged as though it mattered little.

“You should do what you like. Ned’s handsome enough. Do you want to fuck him?”

Sansa rolled her eyes, but Brienne spoke quickly from across the table. “No! He’s my friend. I would never do that. Plus it would be cruel to Jaime. I’ll not see him hurt.”

Arya groaned in distaste. “Oh Gods. Don’t tell me you actually do love the Kingslayer.”

The moniker elicited a glare from Brienne. “His name is Ser Jaime. It matters not how I feel for him. I’m… angry with him.”

Arya snorted at the words. “Gods. If what happened earlier was the two of you being angry, I’d hate to be around you both when you’re happy. Are you going to fuck him again?”

“Arya! Truly, what is  _ wrong  _ with you!?” Sansa narrowed her eyes at her little sister, but Arya could not be deterred.

Brienne’s voice was low in response; any mirth removed from her tone. “No. That was not appropriate. I can’t let that happen again. It’s not fair to either of us to pretend at what cannot be.”

Sansa could tell that her friend was struggling with her emotions. It was clear that Brienne longed for Jaime, but she was still holding back; still hesitant to fully let him in.

Reaching across the table, Sansa grabbed Brienne’s forearm. “Brienne, it’s obvious to everyone in this Keep how much he loves you. You’re within your right to not forgive him for what he said and did, but don’t hold back because you still think him false. He would do anything for you.”

“Including a quick fuck if that’s what you desire. I say, just use him for sex then.” Arya’s tone was impassive as she popped a grape in her mouth.

Glaring at her sister once more, Sansa shook her head. “ _Stop_ _it_. That isn’t fair to either of them. They love each other.”

“What? If it makes Brienne feel good, why not?”

Both Stark sisters looked slowly at Brienne. Judging by the look on Brienne’s face, it  _ was  _ quite good. Sansa chuckled slightly.

“It’s your body and he is your husband. You’ll find no judgement from us. Don’t feel bad about earlier. You deserve to be happy and if  _ reprimanding  _ your husband in such a manner pleases you, go for it. You should have seen the look on Ned’s face, though. It was so sad.”

Brienne looked mortified at the thought. “I feel terribly for Ned. He’s a good man and deserves to find love.”

“Tormund, Ser Jaime, Lord Ned… Gods, Brienne. Share the men already.” Sansa smirked at her friend. Her words drew a chuckle from all three as they sat together snacking on fruit before the next council meeting.

Arya leaned forward and removed any mirth from her face. “Ser Jaime brought one of Cersei’s loyalists to me just a couple of hours ago. I think I’ve got a way to get to the rest.”

Sansa grimaced at the words. “Oh Gods. Did you take her face, Arya?”

With a wolfish smile, Arya shrugged. “I didn’t like her answers. I have the information that I need though. On the morrow, I have some people to meet with using my new acquisition. Apparently, Cersei’s primary informant used this loyalist to bring Ser Jaime a note.”

Sansa and Brienne looked to Arya questioningly. With a pointed glance at Brienne, Arya spoke succinctly. “Cersei begged Ser Jaime to rescue her. Ser Jaime’s response was to have the girl throw the missive into the fire. If you love him, he is yours. I don’t imagine he has been Cersei’s for quite some time.”

Biting back a wide smile, Sansa felt her heart flutter as she looked to Brienne. The little girl who still believed in fairy tales squealed from within. 

_ Accept him if you love him, Brienne. The fool adores you. _

With a slight shrug, Brienne looked to her hands. “I’ll think about it. I agreed to break my fast with him in the mornings. That should at least prevent any further outbursts at poor Ned.”

Sansa snorted and raised a brow. “And save the remaining council chairs.”

The three women talked for a while longer. It was some much-needed time of female companionship that Sansa craved. While she adored Tyrion and was pleased with his attitude adjustment of late, Sansa enjoyed how she could speak on all topics with her friend and sister.

Most women of court were far too traditional to speak so freely with. With female warriors such as Arya and Brienne, Sansa found no judgement. They had seen and experienced things that allowed them to overlook societal expectations for their sex.

When the hour came, the three young, powerful women moved towards the small council chambers together. That evening was to be a special small council session. The entire Queensguard would attend and discuss the proposed reforms that Brienne and Grey Worm had been working on.

With Ser Boros and Ser Balon at their backs, Sansa glanced at Brienne and smirked. “Ready to return to the scene of the crime?”

Brienne’s face flushed once more, but after their girls’ time, Brienne only chuckled lightly. It was good to see Brienne relaxing in her own skin and owning her femininity. She was a woman with needs and desires. Too often in her life, Brienne had to suppress those wants to appease others and conform to the expectations of men.

Stepping into the room, Sansa noted that everyone else was already assembled. A mismatched chair had been brought in alongside six other chairs for the rest of the attendees. Arya whispered to Brienne and Sansa as they walked in.

“Should we tell that miserable shit Sandor that he picked the wrong section of the table to sit at?”

Stifling their laughter, Sansa and Brienne took their places near the section of the table in question. Brienne’s reserved seat at the head of the table and Sansa’s seat at her right had been left open.

Glancing down the table, Sansa appraised the opposite end. Jaime was in his usual seat, but he was looking far more reserved than usual. Genna sat to his left and Tyrion to his right. Ser Addam represented the special project for the Gold Cloak reform, and he sat to Tyrion’s side. A knowing smile was on the redheaded knight’s face as he stared at Jaime.

Offering a warm smile to Grey Worm, Brienne began the council. “Lord Commander Torgo will present his ideas for the Queensguard. He’ll walk you all through his recommendations today to solicit feedback. Ultimately, the decision is his. I trust his judgement.”

With a wide smile, Grey Worm stood. His hands clasped behind his back as he shared the ideas. Sansa was impressed as he spoke. The ideas that he and Brienne put together were sound: cross-weapon training requirements for Queensguard, allowance to marry, ability to leave the Queensguard after serving a minimum of seven years, recommendation to study a second language to better monitor and converse with guests from Essos, payment for service, and management of the Gold Cloaks’ Command.

When he finished, Sansa appraised the reactions of those around the table. Everyone seemed to think the ideas sound, including Ser Jaime. Sansa knew that he spent much of his life in the Kingsguard and she had worried most at his reaction to such drastic reforms.

_ Good. He can learn to keep his mouth shut. _

Surprisingly it was the Hound who spoke. “Fine. I get it all, but I don’t want to learn another fucking language. I can’t even keep the common tongue straight.”

Ser Addam guffawed from down the table. “What’s wrong  _ Ser Sandor _ ? Don’t want to learn how to say ‘cunt’ and ‘fuck’ in Valyrian?”

“Fuck you, Addam. Only this one gets to call me ‘ser’.” Sandor pointed to Brienne who was biting back a smile at the banter.

Composing herself, Brienne spoke tersely to Sandor. “That idea was Lord Commander Torgo’s and I think it is sensible. If we are to trade with Essos, we should speak or at least understand their people and traders. Further, his point is sound. It would help to keep an eye on guests if more of us understood the languages spoken outside of Westeros. Do the other Queensguard disagree as well?”

Heads shook in refute at the words despite eliciting a grumble from Sandor. With a victorious smirk, Brienne looked to him. “There you have it.”

After a moment’s pause, Brienne said something to Sandor in Valyrian which only Torgo understood. The Lord Commander laughed from down the table which only served to inflame Sandor.

“What’d she say!?”

Grey Worm chuckled and shrugged. “You need learn Valyrian to find out. You better if she mean that threat.”

“You speak Valyrian?” Jaime’s voice was filled with wonder as it floated down the table. It occurred to Sansa that he missed that revelation while he was busy laying in a cottage for a moon turn with Cersei playing nursemaid.

Raising a challenging brow, Sansa spoke commandingly at Jaime. “Perhaps if you chose to  _ stay _ , you would have discovered that fact with the rest of us. You’re quite behind.”

Jaime slouched back in his chair; his mouth clamped shut. Once more, Addam guffawed. “Fuck me. This is great. Glad I stayed to aid the bloody Gold Cloaks.”

The Lannisters and Addam began to bicker quietly among themselves before Brienne brought them back to attention.

“Unless there is no other feedback, I would see these ideas implemented.”

Grey Worm looked pleased as all those assembled concurred. Before Sansa could raise the next topic, the doors opened, and castle staff brought two platters inside. A platter was placed at each end of the table. Genna clapped her hands together eagerly as she appraised the platters of lemon cakes.

“Marvelous! Here they are. I took the liberty of having the staff send up some of the sweets for tomorrow’s feast. I had them prepare extra for today’s meeting.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide and her mouth salivated as her hand reached for a lemon cake. She was hardly alone in her excitement as everyone dove in. There was enough for each person assembled to have a lemon cake. Given the size of the sweets, it hardly seemed enough.

Licking her fingers, Brienne looked to one of the staff who stood at the door. “Teagan, would you mind sending up some more?”

Sansa was always impressed at how Brienne recalled each of the attendant’s names. She had a personal rapport with each and asked after them constantly. Everyone eagerly looked to the staff, hoping to see more brought in.

“ _ No! _ I had these made for tomorrow. We’ve not enough to bring in more today.” Genna barked from down the table. Pointing at the empty platters, Genna ranted at the attendants.

“You can take these out of here now.”

Sansa glanced at Brienne. The look on Brienne’s face was the same expression the female knight often afforded Tormund; complete and utter abject offense. Then, Brienne’s facial expression shifted, and Sansa knew what was coming.

_ Oh Gods. I love her. We’ll get more lemon cakes yet. _

Throughout her pregnancy, Brienne had perfected the art of crying on demand. The first time it happened, she had not intended it. It was the very reason the Hound was now formally a knight.

_ Moons earlier _

Brienne had just found out she was pregnant when, upon hearing the Hound was not an anointed knight, she offered to knight him to ensure the Queensguard upheld the tradition for all Westerosi born guards. Only Grey Worm seemed to have a special exception made. Sandor’s initial refusal was no different than how he ordinarily spoke.

“Fuck off with your silly knightings.”

Sansa was surprised to see a usually composed Brienne become upset by his words. The knight-turned-Queen’s chin quivered and her eyes watered. Surprised at the response, Sandor’s eyes went wide, and he grumbled.

“ _ Seven hells _ . Alright, alright. Do your thing and be quick about it.”

After that, only Brienne could call Sandor ‘Ser’ and get away with it. When Brienne realized the effect her emotions had on him, she startled. She soon began using her newfound weepiness to cry on demand as necessary. Genna was often Brienne’s target.

The older woman had a soft spot for Brienne. When Genna realized how important Brienne was to Jaime, what Brienne endured throughout life, and how little Brienne desired power, Genna took to Brienne as though the queen was her own daughter.

Now as they sat in the small council room and the staff carried away the platters, Sansa watched in amusement as Brienne’s chin quivered and her eyes watered. Those assembled had seen Brienne’s newfound skill in action; everyone except Jaime.

As Brienne let the tears slowly fall, Jaime went into a panic. “Get her the  _ fucking  _ lemon cakes, Genna!”

Genna stood abruptly. “Oh Gods, child! I’m sorry, alright. I’ll get the bloody things. Just calm down.”

Charging out the door to yell at the staff, Brienne dropped the act as those assembled cheered rowdily for the performance that won them all more sweets. For his part, Jaime stared at Brienne in horror. He paled as though he had seen a ghost, and Sansa surmised the very scene playing out in his mind.

“Our Queen wins the joust again!” Addam clapped loudly from down the table. At Addam’s outburst, Jaime’s head turned slowly to Addam in a combination of confusion and shock.

_ Yes. He’s missed quite a lot indeed. _

Moments later Genna returned and moved towards Brienne. At the older lady’s approach, Brienne’s innocent eyes tugged at Genna’s heart. Patting Brienne’s head, Genna cupped Brienne’s cheeks warmly.

“There, there. We’ll get our Queen those lemon cakes.”

As Genna moved back to her seat, a smug smile flashed across Brienne’s face as she leaned back and looked to her lap. Sansa had never been so impressed.

When the staff returned with lemon cakes, everyone dug in eagerly. Brienne was given her own plate of cakes which amused her immensely. Teagan smirked at her Queen when she placed the individual plate before her.

The council soon resumed as everyone sat contentedly eating their lemon cakes; everyone except Jaime. He sat in bewilderment as his brain tried to make sense of what had transpired.

After the meeting ended, Sansa and Tyrion took a walk through the Keep together. Tyrion had wished to update Sansa on the effort to replenish the Crown’s savings and to amass a payment to the Iron Bank. They moved slowly through the Keep until they came upon Tyrion’s room.

“I’ve the books in here. I think I’ve devised a way to see the Iron Bank repaid and ample savings restored within a few moon turns.”

Stepping into the room, Tyrion moved quickly to grab the books he appeared to have been pouring over before the council meeting. He walked Sansa through the plan and explained his thought process. The approach was reasonable, and Sansa felt it should be raised in the following day’s council meeting.

With a small smile, Sansa nodded. “You’ve done well with this. Much more the Tyrion I knew many years ago in King’s Landing.”

Tyrion huffed a small laugh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, just far less whoring about. Well… no whoring about to be exact.” With a sly wink, Tyrion poured them each a cup of wine.

“Yes, about that. I’ve had a most interesting conversation with our Queen and Arya today.” Sansa accepted the wine and took a long sip.

Only days prior, Tyrion had kissed Sansa for the first time. It sparked something in Sansa; something she had not previously been able to give name to. She was in love with her former husband. While her body screamed at her to do  _ more _ , propriety saw her flee the room.

Sansa was well-bred and understood society’s expectations of her. She was not meant to lay with a man while unwed. Disgusting as it was, she had been trained to think of herself as property; a husband’s claim. She was then abused in the worst ways at the hands of Ramsay.

Thinking of intimate touch always sent bile to her throat. With Tyrion, Sansa wanted for more though. She saw the chance at happiness and pleasure from a kind, gentle touch. Old ghosts didn’t make that easy, however.

Sansa had spent days thinking about it. With each day, Tyrion offered her gentle caresses and soft kisses so as not to startle her. He understood Sansa’s boundaries and didn’t want to push her. Sansa expressed a need to be wed before more intimate activity could occur. That opinion had all changed in a matter of hours.

Looking to Tyrion, Sansa saw the question in his eyes. “I’ve decided that it is unfair that a woman should be expected to be wed before taking pleasure in her lover. No matter what we decide to do about our vows, we can decide what to do about our feelings for one another. I wish to reclaim ownership and control of my body. To reclaim what Ramsay stole.”

Tyrion’s eyes went wide. She could see the spark of hope and sympathy below the surface, but Tyrion waited for Sansa to finish speaking.

“I don’t believe we ever had the chance to consummate our marriage. I’d be very interested to see how the night might have gone.”

A wide smile spread across Tyrion’s face. “It is my duty and honor to  _ serve  _ you, Lady Hand.” Clinking glasses with Sansa, Tyrion’s smile dropped. He met her eyes and spoke from the heart.

“I meant what I said the other day. For you, I wish to be a better man. I love you very much and I aim to prove that to you. On  _ your  _ terms.”

_ Perhaps not all things Lannister are so awful. The best ones just need a lot of encouragement.  _


	25. The Nameday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has breakfast with Brienne and finds out more about her nameday feast.

Jaime stood nervously at the door that connected his room to Brienne’s. His gold hand lowered after having knocked lightly. He awoke before the sun came up; a nervous anticipation in the air. Knowing it was Brienne’s nameday, he wanted to make an effort.

Jaime shaved as best he could for a man with one hand. Dressing in slightly more formal attire, Jaime mused that he may as well be attending a feast or a ball. The thought reminded Jaime of his lack of invitation to Brienne’s nameday feast.

It hurt to think about it, but Jaime wasn’t surprised. He had not been a proper friend nor husband. His presence seemed as unwanted as Daenerys’ had been in the North. Taking a deep breath, Jaime stared at the door before him.

Part of him worried that Brienne may change her mind about breaking her fast with him. When she didn’t bid him enter, Jaime’s spirits fell.

Lowering the small box in his hand, Jaime backed away from the door and prepared to take another meal alone or with his kin. He considered giving the Queensguard the gift for whenever Brienne emerged from her room.

Before he could exit his chambers and into the hallway, Jaime heard the door to Brienne’s room open. When Brienne peered around the doorframe, Jaime smiled widely.

She called after him uncertainly. “I was still dressing. Did you still wish to eat?”

Jaime turned around and moved towards Brienne. As she did every day, Brienne looked beautiful. She wore dark grey breeches and a rose-colored tunic under a blue doublet. Sansa had had more attire made to accommodate Brienne’s swelling belly. The outfit had been hemmed to hug her curves and accentuate her swell without moving away from Brienne’s preferred style.

With a wide smile, Jaime approached. “Happy nameday.”

Brienne seemed surprised by the words. Her face flushed as she stepped aside so that Jaime could enter her room. “Oh. Thank you.”

Jaime smiled smugly. “You didn’t think I knew.”

With a slight shrug, Brienne averted her eyes. “Until a week ago, I think only my father and Pod knew. I suppose you heard from Ned too?”

Jaime shook his head in refute. “Ned certainly did _not_ tell me. Shouldn’t I know these things? You are my wife. I bet you don’t know when mine is.” A cocky smile stretched across Jaime’s face, but it did not match his feelings.

_Please don’t know. I’ll feel like an ass._

“Fair point. The fifth day of the third moon.”

_Fuck._

“How did you know that?” Jaime gaped at Brienne. Her face flushed slightly and her brows furrowed. 

“You mentioned it in the Riverlands. You complained of the _unworthy_ accomodations at Robb Stark’s camp, and how he couldn’t be bothered to get you a proper nameday gift. That was when you mentioned the day.”

_I truly did ramble a lot then. Gods. How did she remember that?_

“Right. Well, uh… this is for you.”

Handing Brienne the box, Jaime stared into her eyes. They seemed impossibly bluer that day and he found it difficult to look away. He watched as Brienne eyed the gift; her brows furrowed slightly.

“You already gave me the morningstar. You certainly didn’t need to get me anything. It’s not such an important day.”

“I think it’s important. Not having one would likely mean you weren’t born. Then I wouldn’t have you.” Jaime began to stumble at the words. He never said things as he meant them, and he didn’t mean to imply that Brienne was his.

“I don’t mean… I don’t mean that you’re mine. I know that you’re not. I mean that I wouldn’t get to be around you.”

Seemingly unaware of Jaime’s nervousness, Brienne opened the box and snorted.

“Did you steal these lemon cakes, Ser Jaime?” A small smile tugged at her lips when she looked at him.

Jaime’s tone was teasing as he smirked in response. “You seemed _quite_ partial to them. Though I do believe that Brienne of Tarth put on a false show of it. Not very honorable.”

Jaime recalled the scene yesterday at small council. When he saw her cry, all he could see was the courtyard at Winterfell. Panic had coursed through his body. He never wanted to see her cry again, but when he realized what she was doing, he was in shock. It had never occurred to Jaime that Brienne could pull off such a ruse.

“Yes, well I don’t believe stealing is very knightly either.” Brienne’s smile spread wider as she looked at him. “Thank you. I do quite like them.”

Jaime chuckled and nodded. “You got the better of my aunt. Quite impressive. Is that a newly acquired skill?”

“It would seem a most unexpected skill developed from carrying a babe. Quite easy to turn it on and off.”

Brienne went to shut the box, but Jaime grabbed her hand. “There’s something else. I hope it isn’t stuck to one of the cakes.”

Opening the box once more, Brienne’s eyes went wide at the previously unnoticed gift. Reaching inside, she pulled out the sapphire necklace. When Jaime procured sapphires to have the smith add to the hilt of the morningstar, Jaime noticed a necklace that caught his eye. 

The jeweler had a starburst pendant on display that reminded Jaime of both Tarth and Brienne. He asked the merchant to set a large sapphire gem in the middle of it. It cost more coin than he had, but Jaime offered his House ring in exchange.

The gold and ruby alone would fetch double the cost of the pendant and the merchant eagerly accepted the deal. If Brienne kicked Jaime out of the Keep on the morrow, he would find himself with nothing to his name and seeking refuge in a cave. At the time, Jaime didn’t have an occasion to give it to Brienne, but when he heard of her nameday from Tyrion, it seemed the perfect opportunity.

“I can’t accept this. It’s too extravagant. You’ve already given me too much.”

Shaking his head, Jaime met Brienne’s eyes. “Don’t worry. The West will repay the Crown. I didn’t take it from their purse.”

“No, I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just… too much. It’s far too nice for me. Wasted on me really.”

“Well, _Your Grace_ , I respectfully disagree. I could never afford something so fine as you. I do recall you’re worth your weight in sapphires.” Jaime’s eyes sparkled with mirth as Brienne snorted at the callback to the Riverlands. Dropping any jest from his tone, Jaime shrugged.

“You’re invaluable to me. I want you to have this.”

An uncomfortable vulnerability spread through Jaime as Brienne looked to him in surprise. It was one of the many reasons he could never gather the strength to confess his feelings for Brienne at Winterfell. The thought of Brienne returning even an ounce of his affection felt impossible. All a confession would serve to do was expose him in the most defenseless of ways. Just as he wouldn’t go into battle unarmed, Jaime had feared baring his heart.

With Cersei, there had been a familiarity and comfort based on kinship. Jaime felt no vulnerability in expressing love openly. Of course, Jaime also knew that was never a healthy love. It didn’t hurt to consider rejection, because it was neve true love at its core.

With Brienne, everything felt raw and exposing. Jaime was accustomed to having the upper hand; armed with snide remarks, cutting wit, and feigned indifference. Those defense mechanisms were stripped away by Brienne and Jaime felt naked before her.

Wonder shone in Brienne’s eyes as looked between Jaime and the necklace. Brienne set down the box and put the necklace on. She appraised the pendant as it fell just below her neck perfectly. While Brienne was staring at the necklace with a wide smile on her face, Jaime was staring at her.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Brienne’s eyes glanced at Jaime through her lashes.

As if in a trace staring at her, Jaime mumbled in reply. “It is.”

He wasn’t talking about the necklace as he stared at her. Unable to stop himself, Jaime closed the distance and kissed the corner of her lips. Brienne stiffened slightly at the contact. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable or regret affording him time, Jaime stepped back and apologized.

“Do you wish to eat here?”

Clearing her throat, Brienne glanced to the door. “The gardens perhaps? It seems nice out.”

Offering his arm, Jaime was pleased to see her accept it more willingly than the day prior. They stepped into the hallway and were greeted by the Queensguard on duty. Both men looked chipper at the sight of their Queen; each wishing her a happy nameday.

Brienne cringed at the recognition, but she thanked them quietly. It seemed the entire castle knew of their Queen’s nameday. Everyone they passed was excited to see the Queen and note the occasion. Brienne was always polite in reply, but Jaime could tell that she was not at ease.

_Thank the gods Tyrion told me it was her nameday. I would have looked like a proper ass._

“I do believe you’re the most popular sovereign the kingdoms have ever had.”

Brienne snorted. “That wouldn’t take much. I think it unfortunate that the people consider decency and consideration something remarkable.”

That statement alone showed how dissimilar Brienne was from Cersei. They arrived in the gardens, where staff quickly brought out drinks and food for their Queen and Consort. Most seemed a bit surprised at Jaime’s presence which only made him feel more pathetic.

They kept to straightforward topics; nothing provoking poor memories in the other. Jaime asked after her lineage and sat in impressed silence as Brienne told the tale of Ser Duncan’s connection to Tarth. She spoke of Ser Duncan’s line, her grandparents, who took in the babe of Jenny and Prince Duncan, Alysanne.

Jaime hardly cared about Brienne’s Targaryen lineage. It was the connection to Ser Duncan that drew his attention and excitement. He asked an array of questions which only seemed to amuse Brienne.

“Gods. I tell you all that nonsense about the Targaryen line and you only care to hear about Ser Duncan.”

Jaime shrugged as though the matter was simple. “I care little for _most_ Targaryens. Now a great knight such as Ser Duncan…”

Brienne snorted and continued eating her meal. Studying her, Jaime thought back on information offered from Selwyn and Sansa. “Who were you betrothed to before fighting for Renly?”

With great hesitation, Brienne shared details of her first betrothal to a young lord who fell ill before they met. Then she shifted uncomfortably as she spoke of Ronnet Connington; the knight who threw a rose in her face. Lastly, she shared information of the betrothal to the friend of her father’s who was five and sixty.

_I hope they’re both dead, but if not, I might kill them myself if given the chance._

When their meal ended, Jaime felt disheartened. He wished it could go on forever, but that was not the agreement. Brienne had already afforded him more time than Jaime knew he deserved.

As they stood from their chairs, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Can we do this again tomorrow?”

Brienne nodded. “Yes, I agreed to that.”

“Well, you shouldn’t feel obligated if you’re uncomfortable eating with me. I don’t want to make you miserable.” Jaime prayed to the Seven that Brienne didn’t find the time with him unbearable.

Brienne shook her head. “I never thought eating with you was miserable.”

A warmth spread through Jaime at the words. Nodding enthusiastically. “Well I can’t guarantee lemon cakes every day. The head baker is quite large, rather scary, and I nearly died trying to steal _those_. Apparently, they’re under strict orders from Genna. Mayhaps if you come with me and use that new skill of yours though…”

A light laughter pushed past Brienne’s lips that made Jaime’s heart skip a beat. She bit her lip in consideration and shrugged. “Well, we’ll see what is left over tonight.”

At the mention of tonight, Jaime’s face fell. He knew his presence wasn’t desired, so he withheld commenting on it. As if realizing her slip, Brienne eyed him nervously.

“It’s nothing so special really. Tonight is just a small supper.”

Putting up an understanding hand, Jaime nodded. “I understand. I hope you enjoy it.”

Brienne seemed to struggle with something. “If you wish to attend, it’s just the councils and Queensguard. Sansa and Ne…” Brienne cut herself off and looked away.

_Ned. A wretched name that I can’t avoid. Ned Stark. Ned Dayne. Mayhaps there will someday be a Ned Giantsbane to come along and destroy my life._

Brienne looked down and played with the hem of her doublet. “They insisted. I _really_ don’t want to attend.”

“It’s alright. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. You’d enjoy it more without me.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly. “As I said, I never found eating with you to be miserable. I always enjoyed eating with you. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to be there.”

_Why wouldn’t I want to be there?_

A wide smile spread across Jaime’s face. “Yes? You don’t mind if I come then?”

“Jaime, I was never trying to exclude you. I would prefer to exclude myself. As I said, I didn’t think you would want to attend. They’ve all planned this, not me. I’ve not invited anyone… well, except you, I suppose. Just keep Tyrion and his games away from me.”

Jaime felt an incredible excitement course through him. He mentally committed to being on his best behavior.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. All Jaime could think about was the feast to come. It was the chance at a second meal with Brienne and being included in something special for her. When the time came, he sought her out, but she was not in her room.

As he wandered the hall, Jaime saw Davos speaking with an attendant. “Ser Davos!”

Jaime jogged up to the older knight who smiled warmly in greeting. “Ser Jaime. What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen the Queen? I was hoping to escort her to the feast.”

Davos raised a brow. “She was in a meeting with Lord Ned. I imagine they’ll go straight there from the study.”

Offering his thanks, Jaime felt the familiar pang of jealousy. He reminded himself that Brienne was not like Cersei. She wouldn’t seek out another, though it was within her right. Jaime began to wonder if Ned would try to sway Brienne to him once more. The thought made Jaime feel ill to think on.

Arriving at the hall, Jaime noted that most everyone was there. Selwyn, Maester Tyton, and a group of Stormlanders stood nearby and talked boisterously as the wine was already flowing. Attempting to play the part of polite goodson, Jaime approached to greet Selwyn.

“Lord Selwyn. Good to see you.”

Selwyn eyed Jaime warily and offered a nod. “Ser Jaime. Congratulations. I see she hasn’t killed you off yet.”

“No, my lord. Though I imagine that may happen when her time comes to birth the babe.” Jaime tried to lighten the tension between them, but Selwyn only hummed in consideration.

“Where is she anyway?”

Trying to hide the bitterness he felt, Jaime forced a smile. “She was having a private audience with Lord Ned Dayne.”

A knowing smile spread across Selwyn’s face. “Yes, I’ve heard of him in her letters.”

Jaime felt sick to his stomach. With a tight smile, Jaime nodded. “I best get to my seat then.”

Before Jaime could step away from Selwyn, the doors to the hall opened. Walking in on Ned’s arm, Brienne’s face flushed under the attention of appraising eyes. Everyone assembled smiled and clapped at their Queen’s entry.

Jaime swallowed the lump forming in his throat. They did make a fine-looking couple. Despite their conversation the day prior, Jaime wondered if Brienne did fancy Ned on some level. When Brienne’s eyes scanned the room and fell on him, she looked away quickly.

_Mayhaps she was only being kind earlier by inviting me._

Then Brienne’s eyes landed on Selwyn and went wide in shock. Jaime recalled hearing that Selwyn’s presence would be a surprise, and he was happy to see they had pulled it off. As Ned began to escort Brienne over, Jaime quickly moved away. He glanced towards the raised dais where a long table was set out. There were six seats at the table, of which Jaime imagined none were intended for him.

Walking across the hall, Jaime moved towards Genna’s table. She was sitting with Addam, Tyrion, Ser Baelor, Lord Jonos, Pod, and the Hound. Jaime took his seat and glanced briefly at the head table as everyone began to take their seat.

Brienne sat with Sansa, Arya, Grey Worm, and Selwyn. The staff began moving quickly to the tables to pour water, wine, or ale to the guests. Bread and fruit platters were set out before the main courses were served.

Sitting quietly beside Tyrion, Jaime felt the eyes of those at the table staring at him. It was Genna who spoke. “What are you doing you dolt? Go sit with your wife.”

Jaime glanced at Genna. His brows furrowed as he considered her words. “She invited me out of kindness. I doubt she wishes to have me seated beside her.”

The Hound tore into a piece of bread as she sat back and huffed. “Do you have to make such a fucking show of everything?”

Jaime’s eyes glanced to the head table. All seated were staring at him strangely; an empty chair to Brienne’s right as Sansa sat to her left.”

Looking around the room, Jaime saw that Ned had taken a seat with Lord Royce, Quellon, Sam, Ser Boros, and Lady Meera Reed.

“Hey idiot. Did you forget that you’re married to the Queen?” Arya’s voice carried across the hall and drew a small chuckle from those assembled.

Speaking through clenched teeth, Genna glared at Jaime. “Go, boy! She’ll think you don’t wish to sit with her.”

Jaime moved to sit beside Brienne. As he did so, he heard Sansa snicker at Brienne’s left. Muttering under his breath, Jaime glanced to Brienne.

“Sorry. I thought you intended Ned to sit here.”

Brienne sighed and took a sip of water. As the cup came down, she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead and spoke quietly. “I’m not married to Ned, am I?”

“No, I just… never mind.” Thinking it best to shut up, Jaime sat back in his chair and reminded himself to not fuck up the night for Brienne. Those assembled began approaching the table to offer Brienne a nameday gift. She was entirely uncomfortable at the consideration, but she smiled politely and thanked everyone.

Surprisingly, some of the staff approached with homemade gifts. Brienne seemed to treasure those the most and made a grand show of it. The staff members’ eyes lit up as she marveled over their gift and asked after their families.

Then Arya stood. Jaime saw the young wolf wink at the Hound whose lips curled into the faintest smirk. He shook his head and stabbed at a vegetable on his plate.

“Your grace. In honor of your nameday and my _favorite_ memory of our time together, I wanted to give you this.”

Arya reached across Sansa and handed Brienne a box. Watching Brienne open it, Jaime tried to lean over and see what it was. A loud guffaw pushed past Brienne’s lips at whatever she saw. Reaching inside, Brienne pulled out what appeared to be a small serving tray. Strangely, it was shaped as an ear.

“Fuck you both!” Sandor yelled from across the room as it dawned on Jaime what the jape was.

Arya smiled triumphantly as her chest swelled. “Perhaps you can put some fruit or cheese on it. I hear revenge is a dish best served cold.” Brienne clapped excitedly and nodded. The sight of her enjoyment over the inside jape between her, Arya, and the Hound made Jaime smile in return.

While Jaime preferred earning one of Brienne’s rare smiles, he also appreciated when she enjoyed herself so openly with others. Sandor stood abruptly from his chair and marched towards the front of the room.

He smirked at Arya in passing, before standing opposite Brienne at the head table. He had something balled up under his arm and placed it before Brienne. It looked to be a blanket which Brienne slowly unrolled.

“It’s for the babe. I had a seamstress use Arya’s useless _Needle_ to make some improvements to your sigil.”

The blanket was blue and the perfect size for a babe. House Clegane’s sigil was three hounds on a yellow field. He had taken the Targaryen sigil of the three headed dragon and altered the dragon heads to be replaced with hounds’ heads. The dragon-hound hybrid was rose colored with a gold starburst behind it. Then Jaime saw another detail which made him laugh as loudly as Brienne.

The dragon appeared to be taking a piss on a direwolf below it. At their laughter, Arya craned her neck to see. A scowl slowly spread across her face and she shook her head.

“Fuck it. You _won_.”

Sandor smirked at the words. Glancing towards Brienne, Jaime watched as her cheeks pinked with mirth. She wiped at her eyes as tears of laughter fell.

“You two are _idiots_ . These are the worst gifts that I’ve ever received, and I _love_ them.”

Sansa grabbed the blanket to appraise it. Grunting in distaste, she met Sandor’s eyes. “This is disgusting, and I expected better of you.”

While she aimed at reprimanding, there was an amused smile tugging at her lips that the Hound saw through. “Relax, little bird. Think of it as a bath for your shit House.”

Jaime laughed even harder at the words.

_Gods. What I wouldn’t give to have taken a piss on Ned._

Sansa turned towards Jaime and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, does our Consort have something to say? I suppose this could be worse. There could be _lions_ on it.”

It was a harsh reminder that the babe in Brienne’s belly would never be his to fully claim. The heir to the Iron Throne would be a Tarth.

Before Jaime could reply, the doors to the hall opened. Gendry strode in quickly with a gift in hand, and other Stormlands vassals at his back. From beside Sansa, Jaime heard Arya mumble.

“ _Finally_. Took them long enough.”

To Jaime’s right, Selwyn’s fists balled on the table. Jaime glanced at the older Lord. Selwyn’s eyes were wide in shock, but his face was reddening with rage. The expression on Selwyn’s face reminded Jaime of the day he became well acquainted with Selwyn’s fist.

Turning back to the approaching group, Jaime noted the gifts in each of their hands. Brienne was lost in conversation with the Hound, but when her eyes darted past Sandor, she paled and her face fell.

Gendry approached first. “Ya grace. Sorry I’m late. A few of the vassals only just arrived and I was waiting to collect them.” Setting down his gift on the table, Gendry smiled warmly.

The gift was a new dagger which appeared of the highest quality. Jaime’s brows rose as Brienne inspected it and smiled. “Thank you, Lord Gendry. This is wonderful. Some of your finest work. I’ll wear it proudly.”

Gendry nodded and moved aside. He began to introduce the other vassals, but cut himself off. “Apologies ya Grace. Of course, ya know them.”

“Yes, quite well.” One of the vassals spoke while stepping forward. He had a single rose in hand and a snide smirk on his face.

Glancing to Brienne, Jaime could see the pain in her eyes as she tried to force a smile. “Yes. Lovely to see you all. Thank you for coming.”

The redheaded vassal took a step forward and dropped the rose onto the table. Leaning in, he whispered for Brienne’s ears, though Jaime could hear.

“I could have had this all. Hmm… _still_ not worth it.”

Then it all clicked. Jaime recalled the conversation with Brienne earlier that day. He spat through gritted teeth. “Ronnet Connington.”

As the man’s eyes darted to him, Jaime stood abruptly. His golden hand smashed into Ronnet’s nose, sending Ronnet falling backwards. A sickening crunch echoed off the walls as the man cried out in pain.

Jaime leapt over the table; sending plates and cups falling to the floor in the process. Before Ronnet could recover, Jaime was on top of him and pummeling the man with a flesh fist and golden hand. Muttering obscenities, Jaime hardly heard the numerous voices calling him off.

Then a large pair of arms were around Jaime and lifting him backwards. “ _Enough_ , boy!”

Selwyn stepped between Jaime and Ronnet. The redheaded knight scrambled to his feet as blood poured from his face. Swaying slightly, Ronnet spit blood to the floor; his eyes wild in rage.

“Kingslayer! I’ll gladly finish the job the Dragon Queen and her beast couldn’t! You and _all_ lions are a plague upon Westeros and should be snuffed out!”

At Jaime’s back, Brienne’s rage-filled voice spoke loudly. “How dare you threaten my husband and the heir to the Eight Kingdoms!”

Ronnet recoiled at the words. “I didn’t threaten your babe!”

Brienne leaned on the table and spat at Ronnet. “This babe may be a Tarth, but he or she has a lion for a father! If I don’t get to you first, my husband will claw that worthless head from your body if you threaten his babe’s life again. A Lannister _always_ pays his debts!”

At the words, Jaime turned to Brienne in shock. Her face was red with indignant rage as she glared at Ronnet. Jaime’s heart swelled at her defense of him and their babe. It was the first time any babe had been acknowledged as his out loud. Was he not so consumed with hate for Ronnet, Jaime might have wept with joy.

Moving forward slowly, Genna’s chest swelled with pride as she looked at their Queen. Her eyes moved slowly to Jaime. With a nod of approval, she smirked at Jaime. She knew what that moment meant to him.

Before Jaime realized it, the Queensguard were standing before him and Brienne protectively. Grey Worm spoke loudly at Jaime’s side, startling him slightly. Jaime had not noticed the man’s approach.

“You threaten our Queen babe and her husband? Not so smart.”

Ronnet backpedaled. Putting up his hands defensively, his eyes scanned the hall. He was met with nothing but hateful glares disapproving head shakes. Even the Stormlands’ vassals seemed unimpressed.

“Don’t forget your fucking rose, Ronnet!?” Selwyn barked at Ronnet and threw the rose at the knight’s feet. His voice cut through the heavy silence that had fallen over the room after Grey Worm’s words. Selwyn continued as he kept his eyes locked on Ronnet.

“You’d be lucky if that’s all you get from _me_! You insulted my daughter, and you threatened my grandbabe and goodson. If I ever see you in the Stormlands again, I’ll gut you myself.”

Ronnet’s jaw dropped. He began to protest, but Brienne cut him off. “I hereby strip you of all your lands and titles.”

Ronnet stammered at the words. Having had enough of the red headed knight, Brienne took Jaime’s breath away once more. “Did you not hear me, Ronnet?! I thought myself rather loud and clear. Hear me roar, _indeed_. Goodnight and goodbye!”

The Queensguard and visiting Lords began closing in on Ronnet. At the curt dismissal, Ronnet scampered from the hall in fear. Jaime turned to steal another glance at Brienne. His love for her was beyond measure.

A warm hand came to Jaime’s shoulder and shook him from his revere. Selwyn huffed as his eyes moved away from Ronnet’s retreating form. “Come on. I’ve not eaten my bloody dessert yet. Try not to topple that over too.”

Selwyn’s hand dropped as he moved back to his seat. Those who came together in defense of their Queen and consort slowly moved back to their seats. Taking a cue from those assembled, Jaime walked around the table to his chair. When he sat down, Jaime heard Brienne speak to one of the attendants.

“I’m so very sorry, Aileen. My husband is having a difficult time keeping things on tables of late. Do you mind?” 


	26. The Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime speak after her dismissal of Ronnet at the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! This and chapter 27 will go up together.

The words in defense of Jaime had flown from Brienne’s mouth before she could filter them. Despite her hesitance to believe and forgive Jaime, Brienne would never allow anyone to insult or threaten him. While her child would be a Tarth, Brienne would make it clear to Westeros that the babe was Jaime’s; a member of House Lannister.

While Brienne felt no hesitance in proudly declaring the babe as Jaime’s, she worried at claiming  _ him _ publicly. Brienne feared that doing so would only make her look more foolish when he inevitably chose Cersei a second time. It already felt embarrassing to have married the man who left her alone and pregnant to return to his sister.

Neither of them realized Brienne was pregnant at the time, but they knew the possibility existed. When Brienne first realized she was with chidl, she chastised herself for not taking moon tea. Brienne never thought it possible for her womb to quicken.

Her body never did what was expected of it. It never fit properly into dresses. It never let her curtsy when required. It never let her catch the eyes of visiting lords seeking a wife. To think her body capable of anything remotely feminine seemed as unlikely to Brienne as Jaime desiring her more than Cersei.

As the rage from Ronnet’s threats subsided, uncertainty set in.  On one hand, Brienne wanted to keep Jaime at a distance. As long as Cersei lived, Brienne wondered at Jaime’s true intentions. It was a constant fear that Jaime was merely enduring Brienne to try and encourage mercy for his true love.

On the other hand, Brienne loved Jaime, and she could feel him drawing her back in. It felt like a hold from which she couldn’t escape; nor did she wish to. So long as Jaime offered pieces of himself, Brienne would accept them no matter how pitiful it made her appear.

Brienne felt a warm hand at her thigh that cut through her thoughts. Turning her head towards Jaime, she noticed him smiling warmly. The expression on his face took her breath away before Sansa reclaimed her attention.

“Well  _ that  _ was interesting. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Brienne grimaced slightly as she glanced left to meet Sansa’s eyes. Opening her mouth to speak, Jaime’s voice filled the space around her.

“I find redheads to be nothing but bothersome. I’ve yet to meet one who doesn’t piss me off. He needed to leave.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed at Jaime as she twirled her red locks around a finger. “And I’ve yet to meet a Lannister that I like.”

Their remarks lacked the usual bite that often-accompanied words spoken towards an enemy. Brienne rolled her eyes, but before she could interject, Jaime was leaning close; his eyes locked on Sansa and his brow raised in challenge.

“Tyrion.”

Sansa snorted. “I’m fairly certain your father disowned him.”

Jaime scoffed and replied quickly. “Genna.”

A smug smile spread across Sansa’s face. “Frey.”

With a huff, Jaime leaned back. As quickly as he seemed to have given up, he shot forward excitedly. “The babe to be born.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne’s belly. A victorious smile stretched across his face, but Sansa quickly erased it.

“Tarth.”

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime titled his head in question. “Lannister.”

_ Oh Gods. _

“As I said to everyone here, and as I will say to everyone in the eight kingdoms, you are this babe’s father. The babe will be a Tarth though.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “But we’re married and that is  _ our babe _ . A Lannister. You just said as much.”

Brienne could feel her frustration mounting. When she thought Jaime dead, Brienne knew that her babe would be a Tarth or a Waters. The decision was easy, and one of the few benefits to come with her new role as queen. 

That reasoning didn’t last long when Tyrion revealed that his siblings survived. Instead of mourning Jaime, Brienne felt hurt and anger replace sorrow.

In her mind, Jaime had fled to save the love of his life, and Brienne would carry his bastard. The thought had nearly destroyed her, but Brienne accepted the situation for what it was and tried to move on. Before Jaime returned to King’s Landing, Brienne came to find some good in the babe being named a Tarth.

After her brother died, Brienne’s father had no male kin left to see the Tarth name live on. For much of her life, Brienne assumed that she would die a childless, unmarried woman. The last Tarth. No man would want her nor lay with her. If she did lose her maidenhead, Brienne feared it would be by force.

With the child in her womb, Brienne could see the Tarth name live on for at least another generation. It would mean the world to her and her father. The babe was Jaime’s, but the babe was a Tarth. That much she was firm on.

“As I said when you returned to King’s Landing, this babe will be a Tarth. We can legitimize your babe with Cersei as a Lannister.”

At Brienne’s side, Sansa’s attention was captured by Arya. The hall grew louder as wine and ale continued flowing. None of that seemed to matter to Brienne as she noted the incredulous look stretching across Jaime’s face.

“I  _ want  _ our babe to be a Lannister. We’re married which makes you a Lannister.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne felt her hands reach for her belly as she spoke. “Yes, we’re married, but I am a Tarth. This babe will be a Tarth. Your sister still went by Lannister when she was married to Robert.”

“That’s different.” Jaime scoffed and shook his head. “House Lannister is a Great House. It isn’t uncommon for women who marry lesser vassals or other Great Houses to still use their House name.”

Anger began to build deep within Brienne as she tilted her head in question. “So, if I went by my mother’s House, House Targaryen, you wouldn’t question my decision? I am Queen, Jaime. Does that not afford me the right to call myself and this babe Tarth?”

Jaime’s mouth opened to respond, but he clamped it shut quickly. He looked away and shook his head; displeasure writ across his face. Retracting his hand from Brienne’s leg, Jaime sat back in his chair. The shift in his mood was abrupt and Brienne wondered why it bothered him so much.

Brienne had declared the babe Jaime’s and defended him publicly. In the event Jaime’s intentions were false and he only meant to sway Brienne to save Cersei, she knowingly sacrificed her own heart and reputation by claiming him openly. It confused Brienne that Jaime would care so much about the babe’s name.

_ I’ll not be made to look like a bigger fool if this babe is born and he has fled with Cersei. _

Refusing to let Jaime ruin her mood, Brienne enjoyed the time with her father. She spent much of the night speaking with him about matters on Tarth, Gendry’s progress at Storm’s End, and the additional supplies requested for the people of King’s Landing.

The feast went late into the night. Many overindulged on wine and ale, but Brienne was clear of mind. Even if she was not with child and could more freely enjoy the wine, the conversation with Jaime was far too sobering.

Standing to excuse herself, Brienne looked to the left of the hall. An hour prior, Jaime had left his seat to sit with Genna. The pair had been deep in a hushed conversation for much of that time, and Brienne imagined it was about their argument over the babe’s name.

Brienne scolded herself for being saddened by Jaime not being at her side. It felt pathetic to want him so badly, but it hurt Brienne that Jaime seemed more interested in seeing the babe named a Lannister than being with her.

As she began to leave the hall, Brienne felt a presence at her side. Grey Worm smiled warmly and nodded. Without a word, he fell into step with Brienne as she left the hall.

“Torgo, please stay and have a good time. My room is just down the hallway.”

Grey Worm shook his head and smiled. “You my Queen  _ and _ friend. I guard you.”

A fond smile spread across Brienne’s face. “I’m sorry that I’ve taken you away from the fun. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Grey Worm smiled and met Brienne’s eyes. “Yes, I did. You have fun?”

Despite feeling like she was setting herself up for more heartache with Jaime, Brienne enjoyed the feast. It felt wonderful to have so many people care about her; even for something as trivial as a nameday. The gifts were incredibly thoughtful. They had been a mix of humorous, personal, and considerate.

“I did. Thank you. I’ve never truly celebrated the day before, but it was fun with all of you. I’m still amazed you managed to get my father here without my knowing it.”

Grey Worm looked pleased at the words and nodded. When they arrived at Brienne’s room, she bid Grey Worm goodnight and moved inside. The room was warm from the fire, but it somehow still felt cold; it felt empty.

Brienne readied for bed and blew out the candles. She wondered at how long the feast may go on for. It was likely that the small council would be delayed on the morrow given the festivities. The scene had started to remind Brienne of the feast at Winterfell after the dead had fallen. She wondered at it then.

_ If Jaime wasn’t drunk on wine and the victory of battle. If he wasn’t upset at his sister’s broken oath to the living. Would he have come to my bed? Was it pity after Tyrion’s jape? _

A light knock came at the door connecting Brienne’s room to Jaime’s. With a sigh, Brienne moved towards the door. She wore only her nightshift and smallclothes as she did most nights. It was the most freeing time of her day; when she could do away with the tightly fitted breeches and sweltering tunics.

“Yes?”

Jaime’s voice called out uncertainly from the other side. “Can I come in? I didn’t realize you had left the hall.”

Brienne looked around the room, but she didn’t see her nightcoat. It was rare that she wore it in the south. The weather was too warm and the need to mask her bulky form unnecessary when alone. Grimacing slightly, Brienne pulled back the door and peered around with her head.

Standing on the other side, Jaime offered a small smile, but he appeared to be waiting for something. When Brienne didn’t speak, Jaime cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Can I come in for a moment?”

_ Seven hells. _

Brienne opened the door to let him through before folding her arms over her chest shyly. “Apologies. I don’t recall where I left my nightcoat.”

Jaime’s eyes roamed Brienne’s body as he stepped into her room. He seemed a bit uneasy as he shuffled from foot to foot. “I just wanted to wish you goodnight. I hope you had a good nameday.”

“Thank you. I did.”

With a small nod, Jaime ran his hand down the back of his head and to his neck. Brienne watched as he drew his lower lip between his teeth; his brows furrowing slightly. A heavy silence fell over them and Brienne’s shoulders hunched in on herself.

Jaime took a step forward and stared at Brienne. The shrinking space between them quickly overheated. As their eyes met, Jaime closed the distance and placed a soft kiss to Brienne’s lips. The feeling of Jaime’s lips on hers was nearly enough to erase the uncertainty of the evening. 

The scent of him was intoxicating and Brienne knew that if he pushed for more, she would offer it. It made his quick retreat that much more jarring.

“Goodnight, Brienne. Can we still break our fast in the morning?”

Brienne’s chest felt tight at the growing physical and emotional distance. A nod of affirmation gave Jaime the answer he sought as Brienne stammered before him.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Goodnight then.”

As quickly as Jaime had entered, he was gone.

The next day, Brienne sat across from Jaime in the gardens as they broke their fast. Brienne felt as confused as ever. Looking up through her lashes, Brienne listened to Jaime as he prattled on about the games he and Tyrion played at the Rock. More so than yesterday, he was talkative.

Jaime behaved that morning as though no tensions existed between them. Inwardly, Brienne wondered what Jaime and Genna had been speaking about for so long at the feast, but she thought it best not to give her question voice. Then something Jaime said caught Brienne’s attention.

“Cersei refused to play with Tyrion. I always had to act as a buffer between them.”

It was the first time that Jaime ever spoke of Cersei when telling stories from his childhood. The words caught Brienne by surprise as she slowly put down her fork and listened more intently. 

“Did I tell you that she meant to have Tyrion killed for Joffrey’s death?” Jaime’s brow raised in question as he looked up from his meal to meet Brienne’s eyes.

While they had never spoken of it, Brienne knew that Tyrion was arrested and accused in Joffrey’s murder. Brienne nodded slightly in understanding.

“Not in so many words, but I was there. I saw that she had him arrested.”

Jaime nodded and pushed around the food on his plate. A huff of annoyance pushed past his lips before he continued.

“Tyrion could never swallow his pride to let my father or sister win. He always fought them. I made a deal to ensure his freedom. All he had to do was keep his bloody mouth shut.”

Brienne’s brows rose at the words. Jaime was so lost in his memories that he hardly noticed the confusion spreading across Briene’s face. Without looking at her, Jaime continued.

“I told my father that I would give him what he wanted. In exchange for Tyrion’s freedom, I would leave the Kingsguard and take a wife.”

The information surprised Brienne. She studied Jaime for a moment before questioning him.

“I thought you were forced from the Kingsguard by Tommen? You seemed intent on remaining in service to your oaths and the crown, even after losing your hand.”

Jaime shrugged slightly; his face grimacing. “I didn’t want to break another oath. That and… Cersei. I didn’t want to leave her. Well, I don’t know if I didn’t  _ want to _ or if I was  _ afraid to _ . Things already felt different when I returned because of… you.”

_ Cersei _ . The one person who seemed to always stand between them. It was shocking to hear that Jaime would have left Cersei’s side to save Tyrion.

“I am surprised that you would take a wife to save Tyrion when you still felt...  _ things _ ... for Cersei.”

Jaime hummed in consideration. “To save my brother, marriage seemed an easy enough sacrifice to make. I wanted to be a great knight like Ser Arthur Dayne. It wasn’t as though I had hopes for a marriage.”

Brienne felt her breath catch at the statement. Some weeks ago, Tyrion had shared his frustration at the unbreakable bond between his older siblings. No matter how much Jaime was willing to do for Tyrion, Cersei always came first. Cersei was where Jaime drew the line for offered aid.

If Jaime would endure a miserable marriage to save Tyrion, it seemed a forgone conclusion that he would do the same for Cersei. Brienne felt her spirits fall slightly. Doubts began to swirl within and the distant voice of Septa Roelle called out mockingly. 

_ You were really starting to think it possible for a moment? That he could love a beast such as you. _

Looking at Jaime, Brienne sucked in a deep breath and spoke questioningly. “So, you would have endured a miserable marriage to save Tyrion?”

Jaime stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork. “Of course. He’s my brother. I’d do anything for him.”

In truth, Brienne would do the same to save someone she loved. She wouldn’t think twice about accepting an undesirable marriage for such reasons, but it was much more likely that such a marriage would never come to pass. Time and time again, Selwyn had proved incapable of finding Brienne a willing husband. By comparison, Tywin would have had an abundance of willing ladies to wed Jaime.

Brienne felt at war with herself. Part of her could appreciate Jaime’s selfless willingness to save a loved one. It was Jaime’s nature to be self-sacrificing for those he loved. Then there was the other part of Brienne. The part that questioned her own worth and desirability.

Insecurities began to build from within as Brienne felt a flood of memories hit her. She recalled how unhappy Jaime seemed at their wedding. She reminded herself of Jaime’s words reciting all he had done for Cersei. She remembered the cold, dark courtyard. 

Even if Brienne was beginning to consider that Jaime’s words might be true and not a ploy to save Cersei, she was not so foolish to believe that Jaime’s feelings for Cersei would diminish or be superseded by his feelings for her. 

Shaking the thought from her mind, Brienne forced a small smile to her face. Her tone was light as she met Jaime’s eyes.

“You had a broken betrothal too? I suppose we have that in common.”

_ Except that I was the one rejected whereas you were not. _

Jaime snorted. “No. Tyrion couldn’t even keep his mouth shut for an hour to see it done.” 

Something flashed in Jaime’s eyes as he considered something.

“Too bad you weren’t still in King’s Landing when the deal was made. I could have suggested you to my father.” Jaime chuckled and shook his head as he stabbed another piece of fruit. “Not that he would have allowed that.”

Brienne mulled it over and concurred. “I imagine he would have wed you to someone from a Great House.”

Leaning back, Jaime considered the words. “Not necessarily. All my father cared for was someone who offered political gain. Given the state of things, he might have liked that you were from the Stormlands.”

Brienne felt her body stiffen. She feared hearing Jaime’s opinion as to why Tywin wouldn’t have allowed her as a match, but she was too curious to spare herself the pain.

“Probably my appearance then?”

As though giving the words little thought, Jaime nodded absently. 

“My father never cared for things he deemed imperfect. Just look at how he treated Tyrion.”

The words felt like a knife to the gut. Jaime had never approached Tywin to inquire after Brienne, so the fact that Jaime assumed such a response indicated to Brienne that he recognized her as imperfect too. 

Fearing she might cry, Brienne stood slowly. “I uh... have to make water. The babe... I have to go more frequently now.”

Jaime’s face fell slightly. “Oh. Right. So tomorrow then? I can see you again?” 

Offering a small nod, Brienne sucked in her bottom lip and bit down to keep from exposing the tears in her voice. Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Thank you for eating with me again. I’ll see you later?”

Brienne nodded and swallowed down the lump in her throat. Straightening to full height, she forced a smile that did not reach her eyes

“Yes. I’ll see you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a wee bit more angst to go. Very soon we'll get to our Braime as we know and love them.


	27. The Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reflects on the past fortnight since Brienne's nameday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! This and the previous chapter (Chapter 26) are up together.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some NSFW

The early morning rays filtered through the windows in the Tower of the Hand. As she lay in bed, Sansa’s body felt limp from the prior evening’s activities. At her side, Tyrion snored softly. A small smile tugged at Sansa’s lips as she looked at him.

In sleep, Tyrion’s worry lines faded away and gave the illusion of a carefree man. Unfortunately for Sansa and Tyrion, their lives had been anything but carefree. Both had to grow up before their time in response to the world around them.

It had been a fortnight since Brienne’s nameday feast, and much had changed around the Keep. All envoys except Genna, Ned, and Quellon had left the city. Genna remained behind for the babes’ births. Both men remained behind to help with newer programs put into place within the city.

Ned’s special project had been finding permanent placement for children at the orphanage. Initially, Sansa had wondered if his intentions were true. She wondered if after Brienne’s rejection of his advances, Ned would return to Dorne and do the minimum required of his role. Thankfully, her worries were proven wrong.

Quellon had taken on a special project to help repair the docks and build new ships. As an Ironborn, he was uniquely qualified to help Davos in the task. The man struck Sansa as a bit odd, but he knew what he was talking about where it concerned nautical matters.

After the events at Brienne’s nameday feast, Sansa expected something  _ more _ between Jaime and Brienne. She thought they had found their way back to one another, but instead, it was more of the same. They broke their fast together and were cordial in council, but beyond that, Brienne had yet to thaw.

Jaime on the other hand appeared to be a man drowning. He happily did as Brienne bid him, but Sansa could see the pain below the surface. 

It saddened Sansa, but it wasn’t her place to say anything. Aside from Sansa’s teasing inquiries as to whether they had anymore ‘fights’, which they did not, not much came up surrounding their strained marriage. 

Then there was the matter of Cersei. Brienne wanted to move her to a guarded room within the Keep. Loathe as Sansa was to admit it, it would be cruel and unnecessary to make her birth a babe in the black cells. Surprisingly, it was Jaime who protested.

_ ‘No. It isn’t safe, and I don’t trust her. Leave her in the black cells until its her time. If you’re going to move her, place her in a cell with a cot and enough lighting for a midwife. She doesn’t need silks to birth a babe.’  _

There had been much debate between Jaime and Brienne, but others agreed with Jaime, including Genna. Arya had effectively removed eight loyalists from the Keep. No more missives found their way to Jaime nor other members of the Keep.

As for Cersei herself, the former queen was nine and a half moons pregnant. Every day, Maester Tyton checked on Cersei. Every day, his report was the same.

_ ‘Still no signs of looming labor. My lord, are you certain that you did not lay with her some weeks later than you recall?’ _

The question only seemed to sow seeds of doubt in Brienne. She looked to Jaime suspiciously as he continuously denied the question. With a shrug, Tyton relented.

_ ‘There is no exact science to it all. I’m certain the babe will arrive soon.’ _

No one including Tyton believed the words. They wondered if Jaime’s initial disbelief at Cersei’s pregnancy by his seed was true. It didn’t seem beyond Cersei to take another lover, particularly where she was so reliant on Euron to carry out her bidding after Jaime fled to aid the living.

Now as Sansa lay in bed and considered it all, she looked to Tyrion once more. Nudging him awake, Sansa smiled fondly as his curls fell into his face and over his slowly opening eyes. Both Tyrion and Jaime were regaining their golden hue since their return to the capital. Each Lannister brother had looked more like wolves than lions during their stay at Winterfell.

“I hope you’re waking me up to use my body for your pleasure.”

Sansa snorted at Tyrion's words and shook her head. “After last night, I think I’ll need to drink moon tea around the hour lest I wish to borrow Brienne’s altered clothing in several moons. We have to go to the council meeting.”

Tyrion groaned and rolled on top of her. His cock was hard and wanting. Running a soothing hand through his hair, Sansa chuckled.

“Gods. Are you  _ ever  _ sated?”

Tyrion raised his head to meet her eyes. Despite the sleepiness in his voice and features, a mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Where it concerns you? No.”

Trying to entice her to stay in bed a while longer, Tyrion moved under the sheets and between her legs. Sansa sucked in a breath as she felt his mouth on her lower lips; his fingers rubbing at her nub and his tongue dipping between her folds.

“You’re  _ wicked _ . Tyrion, we have to…” Sansa moaned as Tyrion continued his ministrations. “ _ Oh Gods _ .”

Sansa could feel Tyrion’s warm breath against her folds as he laughed lightly at her response. Nudging apart Sansa’s legs, Tyrion’s tongue pushed deeper as he lifted her hips slightly. Between his tongue and the pressure on her nub from his fingers, Sansa felt her pleasure building. Her breathing began to labor as her hand grabbed at his hair, pushing his head firmer to her.

With a loud moan, Sansa’s body began to tremble in pleasure. She peaked with Tyrion’s name on her lips, only moments before she felt his cock thrust into. As the room stopped spinning, Sansa looked to Tyrion as he pumped into her at a tantalizing pace.

It was the only thing that Sansa ever lamented about their height difference. He could not kiss her lips while inside her. Still, Tyrion more than made up for it. His eyes spoke of the love he held for her. His hands tugged at her nipples in the most pleasurable of ways. Their love was everything that Sansa ever dreamed of and she couldn’t imagine her life without Tyrion in it.

He came with a roar befitting a lion. A small part of Sansa longed for a cub to call their own, but there still felt too much to accomplish. 

After finally extricating themselves from bed, Sansa and Tyrion walked hand in hand to the hall to break their fast. The morning was already off to a perfect start and Sansa felt as though nothing could bring her down.

Rounding the corner into the hall, Sansa was surprised to see Jaime sitting alone at a table. He appeared despondent as he pushed around his eggs with a fork.

_ Oh seven hells. Now what? _

“Brother. You’re not breaking your fast with our Queen today.” Tyrion called out as he tugged Sansa towards the table.

“She’s busy.”

Sansa sighed from across the table. ‘Busy’ had become the word often used by Jaime to describe Brienne’s time with Ned. Considering Jaime’s demeanor that morning, it certainly explained things.

“She has told you numerous times that she doesn’t feel anything for Ned other than friendship.”

Jaime grumbled and dropped his fork to the plate before him. “I didn’t say anything about Ned.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re a miserable shit whenever you know Brienne is with him. Stop acting as though she is torn between two suitors. She immediately turned Ned down when he expressed interest, and she claimed you, her husband, before everyone who matters to her.” 

Sansa didn’t know what she expected from Jaime, but it certainly wasn’t the response she received. His face fell as he spoke while staring at his half eaten plate of food.

“Do you think she’ll let me claim the babe? Not the name of course, but… just be a father.”

Glancing at Tyrion, Sansa’s brows furrowed. “Why would you think otherwise?”

With a slight shrug, Jaime leaned his elbows on the table and sighed. He rubbed his forehead with his flesh hand; a slight unease setting into his features.

“I’m not so certain Cersei’s babe is mine. She’s always had the babes a bit early. I just don’t think I’ll have any children when this is all done.”

Jaime’s pain was palpable as he spoke. It seemed his thoughts concerning Cersei’s babe were not far from the truth. Even still, Sansa knew that Brienne was not a cruel woman. She knew how pained Jaime was at never having a child to call his own.

Sansa didn’t believe her own words when she next spoke, but she was desperate to ease Jaime’s pain.

“The maester said this isn’t unusual. My mother’s pregnancies were different lengths, so perhaps Cersei is just late in having this one. Regardless, Brienne would never keep you from your child. It isn’t her nature.”

Standing from his chair, Jaime mumbled more to himself than them. “I can’t make council today. I’ll see you both later.”

Without another word, Jaime moved quickly from the hall. For the first time since Jaime’s return, Sansa worried for him. 

Brienne had been and always would be her priority between the two, but Jaime seemed more sullen than usual over the past week. With every day that Cersei did not give birth, his mood worsened.

“Brienne’s babe aside, do you think he wanted this babe with Cersei? Truly?”

Tyrion sighed and scratched his chin. “I never understood their relationship. The last time I tried to guess at what he wanted regarding Cersei, I let him go free and he was nearly killed by the Mountain. I think it best that I don’t postulate where it confers Jaime’s feelings. That said, I don’t believe he cares for Cersei so much as he longs for a child.”

_ I hope that’s the case. I hope he wasn’t hoping this babe would be his one connection to Cersei after she is executed. _

“Where do you think he is going that he can’t attend council? Just a couple of moons ago, he would have jumped at any opportunity to be in the same room as Brienne.”

The look in Tyrion’s eyes worried Sansa even more so than her own thoughts on the matter. “I truly don’t know. I agree though. Something is off.”

Later they made their way to the council. Quellon provided an update on the port and ships. The lumber was coming in too slowly for his liking and he was desperate for material from other kingdoms. 

Sansa appreciated the speed with which he was working to provide the Dothraki and Unsullied safe passage home. In total, nearly half of Daenerys’ forces had elected to return to Essos.

The number had initially been higher for those seeking a return across the Narrow Sea, but many saw how happy their comrades were and changed their minds on the matter. At the rate things were moving, all would likely decide to stay before the ships were ready.

Before they concluded the council, a knock came at the door. Brienne called for the visitor to enter. Opening the door quickly, Ser Boros walked in with a missive in hand. He handed it to Brienne and bowed in greeting.

“Your grace, the attendant brought this for you.”

Sansa looked at the missive in Brienne’s hand. It had the sigil of her House and could only be from one person. Bran.

Brienne broke the seal and quickly read the missive. Her face paled slightly at whatever news the parchment contained.

_ Dark wings, dark words. _

Clearing her throat, Brienne read the missive.

_ Your Grace, _

_ I regret that I’ve been unable to monitor much in the Eight Kingdoms. I’ve been busy tracking a threat across the Narrow Sea. _

_ After Daenerys died, Drogon carried her body away from Westeros. I couldn’t find him for some time, but I’ve located him now. Drogon brought the dead queen’s body to be raised by a Red Priestess. Rumors swirl in the free cities of the resurrected dragon queen looking for vengeance at the hands of her lover, Jon Snow. _

_ I’ve seen this happen at times. When raised, the dead want only for the last thought on their mind. Jon and I spoke of it once.  _

_ When he died, Jon only remembered not wanting it. Not wanting the role of Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Not wanting the infighting of his sworn brothers. Not wanting rejection when he thought to have finally found acceptance. _

_ It seems betrayal and revenge were all Daenerys thought of as she died. She is coming for Jon and she will kill everything and everyone in her path to get to him. _

_ Yours _

_ Bran _


	28. The False Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei gets an update from Aemma and later goes into labor.

The sound of slow dripping water maddened Cersei as she sat against the wall in the black cells. It had been a moon and a half since she last saw Aemma. The swell at her belly grew heavy and prevented her from sleeping properly. Finding no comfort on the piss-smelling straw did little to aid such an effort.

Cersei tilted her chin up and sighed. In the first week after sending the note to Jaime, Cersei imagined a daring rescue. Her Jaime with his two hands would free her. In her dreams, Cersei saw him in his golden armor, and a cutting smile across his face. He would kill everyone involved in her confinement.

When it had been a fortnight since she sent the note and still no two-handed Jaime came, Cersei began to rage. She plotted his death alongside the cow. She pictured sitting atop her throne, higher than them all. At her side yet a few feet below her, a true husband who wasn’t weak and pathetic would do her bidding.

A moon after the note was sent, Cersei overheard the guards speaking of the cow. Their beloved Queen who they fawned over and whose swollen belly would soon deliver their heir. The thought of the cow pregnant by her brother’s seed sent Cersei into a rage.

The little dove had told her of it before, but Cersei had yet to truly confront it. She refused to commit consideration for the cow’s little calf growing within.

_ Her babe has Jaime’s seed; golden and glorious. My babe should have that! My babe should be pure, but better than the first three. _

Still, Cersei told herself that any babe born by her could never be anything except golden. Her perfection would wipe out the traits from the filthy seed that Euron deposited into her womb.

Distantly, Cersei heard the sound of keys and approaching footsteps. Every day she counted, and every day the count never totaled Aemma’s. Grumbling to herself, Cersei counted as she raged inwardly. Then the footsteps stopped.

_ Eight and seventy. Eight and seventy! It’s Aemma! That fucking girl better be here for my rescue! _

Cersei stood quickly. The rapid movement made her lightheaded and she reached back for the wall to steady herself. As the door opened, Aemma walked in with a tray of food. The torchlights at her back framed her body and Cersei could see the young woman’s eyes dart to her quickly.

Speaking in hushed tones, Cersei spat at the girl. “Where have you been!? You were to deliver my note to Jaime.”

Aemma put down the tray and stood slowly. Her eyes glanced around nervously. “Your Grace, I gave the missive to Sylvie to bring to your brother. She did as requested.”

“And!?”

With a slight hesitation, Aemma looked to Cersei slowly. “Dorna overheard Sylvie tell Janei his response the next day. Dorna said Sylvie was acting strangely, but your brother’s response bid her to throw the missive into the fire.”

“What!? No. You heard wrong. He wouldn’t do that.” Cersei snarled at Aemma.

The loyalist looked uneasy as she struggled with something. Biting her lip, Aemma looked around once more and spoke in hushed tones. “You brother and the false queen… they… had a fight.”

Cersei’s head tilted in question. Clearing her throat, Aemma continued. “A rather… passionate fight, your grace. He is not loyal to you.”

Cersei felt fury build in her core. She wanted to rage, scream, and murder someone. As her fists clenched at her side, Cersei snarled. “Bring Sylvie to me!”

Aemma shook her head slowly. “That day was the last we saw Sylvie and Janei. They went missing like the others. Dorna and I are the only ones left. I had to lay low for the past weeks.”

Aemma and Dorna were the silent loyalists. Unlike Cersei’s other loyalists, they ignored the girls while in the Keep. It was meant to protect themselves and ward off anyone watching. 

There were ears and eyes everywhere in the Red Keep. Cersei saw threats around every corner, and she ensured the girls were prepared for all scenarios.

Any thought of her once beloved twin coming to her aid was snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Rage was soon replaced by scheming.

“What of Euron?”

Aemma nodded slowly and looked into the hallway once more. “He has 5,000 sellswords ready to come across the Narrow Sea. And a dragon.”

At those words, Cersei’s eyes went wide. “ _ A dragon? _ ”

“Yes, Your Grace. Rumors swirled in Essos of a red priestess raising the dragon queen. She thirsts only for revenge against her murderer; not the throne. Euron found her. He disguised himself by shaving his head and beard; cast off any Greyjoy sigils on the ships. In exchange for his 5,000 men to help the dragon queen get to her former lover, Euron wants her to burn his enemies to the ground. A crown for a lover. He’s coming for you and the babe, Your Grace.”

A wide smile spread across Cersei’s face. She saw it now; her way to reclaim her throne.

“Get me out of here! My army and dragon await me.”

Putting up a finger to her lips, Aemma whispered. “Your Grace, yes, we’re trying. Euron’s plant has secured aid from a rogue Stormlander that the false queen stripped of his lands and titles. He has five men loyal to him who will help. They’ve been plotting a way to get you out.”

“Tell them to hurry up! This babe can’t wait much longer and they’ll come for my head after.”

Aemma’s eyes dropped to the swell at Cersei’s belly. “Your Grace, how many moons now?”

Snarling at the girl, Cersei moved as close as the chains allowed. “You think it’s so easy to count the passage of time in this shit cell!? Were it not for that fucking maester they’ve been sending here, I would hardly know. A moon turn ago, he thought me nine moons based on the initial dates I gave. That means I’m near eight and a half moons  _ now _ , but they think me ten moons. Get. Me. Out.”

Putting up an imploring hand, Aemma nodded. “Yes, your grace. We’re trying. I swear it.”

The distant sound of guards caught their attention. Bending down to pick up yesterday’s tray of food, Aemma moved quickly from the cell. Cersei considered the information.

Her brother proved useless as ever. The image of her golden, two-handed protector was forever shattered. All she could envision now was the image of the weak, one-handed, failure of a man.

_ The cow’s Jaime. Not mine. My Jaime died in the Riverlands. _

Pacing wildly as far as the chains allowed, Cersei muttered under her breath. She needed Euron’s plant to hurry up and get her out of the damn cell. Once the babe came, they would take her head. The passage of time was marked by the small light that filtered through the stonework once more.

_ Evening is coming. _

Laying down, Cersei tried to find rest. She soon drifted in and out of consciousness, but her sleep was disturbed. 

Some hours later, Cersei awoke with a start. A sharp pain in her womb ripped through her body. It was then that Cersei noticed the dampness of her skirts and the cell floor below.

Putting her fingers into the liquid, Cersei brought it to her nose.

_ Slightly sweet. Not pee. Fuck! _

Trying to will the labor away, Cersei curled her knees to her chest. “ _ Not now! Stop it! Fucking weak! _ ”

Cersei’s ranting only worsened as the pain began to ripple through her. The pain radiated around her middle to her back. Cersei cried out in pain. She needed the maester quickly.

“Fucking dolts! Bring me the maester! Your queen is having her heir!”

Screaming as loud as she could, Cersei continued repeating her words until she heard the distinct sound of guards approaching.

“ _ Shut up  _ with ya belly achin’! Fuckin’ hells.”

The door to the cell opened aggressively and a torch was thrust into the small space. When Cersei’s deranged expression met the guards and she screamed obscenities at them, they did little more than raise a brow.

“So ya hurtin’, huh? We’ll get the maester.”

The cell door closed once more, leaving Cersei to her pain and thoughts. As waves of extreme pressure tore through her body, Cersei clawed at the cell walls like a wild animal. She cursed Euron and his tainted seed for planting such a wretched babe in her.

Writhing on the floor for a prolonged period of time, Cersei soon heard the guards approaching once more. When the cell door opened again, they moved to unchain her from the wall. Cersei was dragged through the cells and up a level.

“Take me to the royal apartments! I want to hold the babe on my throne after!”

Cersei ranted at the men as they dragged her forward.

“Ya can sit on a chamber pot when ya done. That’s all ya gunna sit on.”

Rage coursed through Cersei when they moved into a different cell. This one was larger and had a cot on one wall. A torchlight provided enough light to the space for Cersei to see the horrid conditions.

They had draped clean linens over the cot, and the maester prepared his things in the corner on a large table. 

The guards moved Cersei to the bed and chained her to the wall once more. The chains afforded her just enough opportunity to keep her arms at her side while laying flat.

“Fucking insolent fools! I’ll kill you all for this. Making me birth the heir to the kingdoms like some common criminal!”

The maester only sighed and shook his head as the guards moved into the hallway. Within moments, a midwife entered and began speaking with the maester as he finished preparations for the delivery.

In between waves of intense pain, Cersei heard what the maester said.

“According to her, she’s ten moons pregnant. Quite remarkable… and absurd. Either she forgets herself from the confinement, or the date she gave was intentionally false. I gather the latter.”

The midwife snorted and shook her head. Moving to the bed, the midwife lifted Cersei’s skirts and gave a nod. “I just need to check ya.”

“You will address me as ‘Your Grace’! I am your Queen.”

The woman huffed a small laugh and shook her head. “Sure. And I’m the Maiden herself. Me and me eight babes.”

Turning to the maester, the woman nodded. “She’s got a ways to go. What’s this one?  _ At least _ the fourth?”

“How dare you! I’ve only birthed little princes and princesses just as this one will be!”

A more intense wave of pain gripped Cersei. She cried out, throwing her head back. A cool cloth came to her forehead as the pain slowly faded and her body trembled. 

It had been so long since she birthed Tommen. The pain seemed unbearable and nothing like she recalled from before.

_ The others were golden and cooperative. This babe will be a kraken with its stupid tentacles grasping at me the entire way out. _

“Go get my brother! He must be at the birth of the heir to the Seven Kingdoms.”

_ He never missed the others. He won’t miss this one. My golden, two-handed twin never missed the births. _

_ No! That man is dead! Now he is just a one-handed useless traitor not worthy of seeing this babe’s birth. _

The midwife snorted and shook her head. Glancing to Tyton, she spoke in jest. “She been in here long, I take it?”

Humming by the window, the maester used the moonlight filtering in to appraise an instrument to cut the babe’s tether to Cersei when the time came. “Yes. Quite a few moons I’m afraid.”

Looking back at Cersei, the midwife raised a brow. “I don’t imagine the Consort plans to miss the birth of the heir to the  _ Eight Kingdoms _ . Me son works in the Keep. He said ya brother looks like a smittin’ fool every mornin’ when he drools over his Queen while breakin’ his fast.  _ Good for him. _ She’s an amazin’ woman, our Queen. She’ll birth us a fine heir.”

Cersei bolted upright and reached for the midwife, but the woman only shoved her down hard. An icy glare was in the woman’s eyes as she appraised Cersei.

“I wouldn’t do that. Ya might find yaself deliverin’ ya own babe if ya try that again. Ya lucky the Queen didn’t want ya doin’ this in the black cells and without aid. She’s a good woman. Better than ya ever were to us.”

Before she could curse the woman, another wave of pain gripped Cersei. She writhed on the bed in agony and clawed at the wall as she did in the black cells. Her nails broke at the contact and Cersei looked to her arm clutching at the stonework.

It was then she saw just how filthy she was. Her body stunk of piss and shit. Rage coursed through Cersei as she contemplated the conditions that the heir to the throne was being born into.

_ Euron will come. Fuck the elephants. I have a dragon. _

_ No! Elephants and a dragon! I need it all! _

Hours of pain weakened Cersei, and soon it was time to push. It felt as though her lower half was being torn in two and Cersei screamed with everything she had in her. The midwife pushed back on Cersei’s legs as the maester prepared to receive the babe.

The sweetest relief came when the babe pushed through. With a loud cry, Cersei’s heir roared.

_ Hear me roar. Like the lion he is. _

“A girl.”

_ Ugh. Truly? Like the lioness she is. _

The babe was placed on Cersei’s chest as the maester delivered the afterbirth. Wrapping her arms around the babe, Cersei’s head pulled back in repulsion.

“What is _ this!? _ ”

The maester and midwife looked to Cersei in question. “A… babe…”

“ _ No! _ I mean…  _ What. Is. This!? Where is my golden babe!? _ ”

The babe had dark hair atop its crown. Cersei tugged at the hair and scrunched her nose in distaste. “It should be  _ golden _ ! Beautiful and golden like me! Not dark like its father!”

The maester and midwife looked to one another in confusion. Something flashed across the maester’s face at the words.

“Yes, well that explains  _ why  _ the need to pretend at the world’s longest pregnancy.”

Cersei sneered at the man and extended the babe to him. “Take this thing  _ away _ . It’s defective. Imperfect like the others.”

The midwife was appalled and grabbed the babe. Holding the little one close, she smiled at the babe and shushed it.

“This crazy bitch don’t deserve ya little one. Lets take ya to those uncles ya got. Good men they are.”


	29. The Uncles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reacts to meeting his niece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple posting day! OK I had hoped to have all three edited at the same time, but I was a bit distracted last night... still am... something is wrong with 2020. So for those of us stateside who need a distraction, I hope some Braime helps.
> 
> I'll have the second chapter up in a minute. I'll try to quickly edit the third and get that up in an hour or so.

Jaime paced wildly in the Hand’s study. At his back, Genna, Sansa, and Tyrion spoke in hushed tones. The atmosphere in the room was one of tense anticipation. Of course, Jaime knew the babe was unlikely to be his; not unless Cersei intended on winning the honor of longest pregnancy in the history of Westeros.

A part of Jaime felt strange waiting anxiously in a study knowing his sister was birthing a babe in the cells. He had been there for the other births despite knowing he would never get to claim those babes. That he would never get to hold them. Now he had a babe he could claim, but he wasn’t there.

Over the past weeks, Jaime despaired. Every day that Cersei didn’t deliver was a nod to his initial belief that the babe was never his. While Jaime had little desire for another babe with Cersei, he desired a child to claim in every way. 

It was a desire that Jaime never felt until loving Brienne. Jaime hated watching Robert claim his babes, but the children never truly felt like  _ his _ . To that point, being a father was never something Jaime longed for. He wanted to be a great knight like those before him. Arthur Dayne. Duncan the Tall. Barristan Selmy.

Then Jaime fell in love with Brienne and he wanted it all. He wanted her as a wife with a brood of children to grow old with. Jaime longed for babes to call his own; to teach, to hold, and to love. Brienne had made it clear however that  _ her _ babe was to be a Tarth. It somehow felt worse than another man raising his child.

Jaime didn’t want a babe with Cersei, but that felt the only opportunity to be a true father. With every passing day that the babe didn’t come, Jaime plunged deeper into despair. Only a few moons ago, he thought to be holding two babes in his arms. Now he would hold none.

_ Empty arms to match my empty chest. I gave Brienne my heart and she doesn’t want it anymore.  _

A fortnight ago when it felt a foregone conclusion that Cersei’s babe wasn’t his, Jaime began to make himself scarce at the Keep. It hurt too much to see Brienne’s swelling belly every day; a reminder of what he gave up for his hateful sister.

Jaime occupied his time in the city. He visited the orphanage when Ned and Brienne weren’t there. It seemed the only way he could parent.

Interacting with the children helped Jaime cope with it all. For the time he spent there, he could play the role of parent. He played with the children, read to them, and taught the older children the sword.

Loathe as Jaime was to admit it, Ned’s idea had been incredible. The children deserved homes, and Jaime wished he had one to offer. He would have loved to be a parent to any of the children whose parents were stolen from them. As much as Jaime wanted to volunteer to take some of them in, he didn’t feel that he had a home to offer.

The Keep was Brienne’s as was everything else belonging to Jaime. If she cast him out on the morrow, he wouldn’t have a home to offer any child from the city. Of course, there was the Rock, but that never felt like home. The walls of his ancestral House were filled with ghosts that Jaime didn’t have the strength to confront.

If Brienne sent Jaime away, he would inquire after naming Genna castellan until Cersei’s babe came of age. The West didn’t need him. It felt to Jaime as though no one needed him. Any chance at happiness died when he left Brienne in that courtyard. There seemed a finality to the heartbreak he caused, and the heartbreak he caused himself in return.

He had never thought to survive the siege. His only goal was to see to Cersei’s demise; to keep Brienne safe from her madness. Somehow this fate felt worse than death. Still, it felt fitting for hurting the love of his life in the cruelest way.

After the feast, Jaime thought he might have a chance with Brienne. She stood in defense of him before court and gave name to her babe’s lineage. It felt more incredible than her defense of him at Winterfell. Then nothing changed. It seemed his request to truly claim the babe, to name him or her a Lannister, had pushed Brienne over the edge.

Brienne still avoided him in all things aside from breaking their fast. The walls guarding her heart seemed to grow by the day. It seemed he wasn’t the only one despairing at the maester’s daily updates. Jaime wondered why she didn’t view the updates as a good thing.

_ Did she  _ **_want_ ** _ the babe to be mine? Would she think it somehow kinder when I never get to hold her Tarth babe? _

Breaking Jaime from his thoughts, the door to the study opened. Maester Tyton walked in with a small bundle in his arms. He looked to those in the room and offered a sympathetic smile to Jaime.

“My lords. You  _ both _ have a niece.”

The room seemed to still at the words. Jaime felt numb. He knew it was foolish to be surprised by the news. It seemed that despite the truth being right in front of his face, some small part of Jaime had still been holding out hope.

_ Fitting. I was always Cersei’s fool. Why change that now? The answers have always been right in front of my face, but I’ve been too stupid and blind to see them. _

Jaime hardly noticed that Tyrion and Genna had approached. Both were studying him, but Jaime had no words. As the maester walked to them, Jaime saw dark hair sticking out from the swaddling.

“Jaime. Are you alright?” Genna’s voice was a whisper in his ear.

Forcing a small smile, Jaime looked to her. “I’ve never had a true niece before. Maybe I’ll be better at that than…”  _ Being a father. _

Tyrion cleared his throat at Jaime’s side. “Do you want to hold her first?”

_ Hold her? _

“I don’t know how. You do it.” Jaime stepped back and sat down as Genna and Tyrion crowded around the babe.

Jaime watched numbly as the pair smiled at the newborn babe. A small exchange between the maester and Genna produced a frown from Jaime’s aunt. She thanked the man and he quickly left the room. The room felt smaller now; claustrophobic and stifling. Jaime watched numbly as Tyrion brough the babe to Sansa.

“She’s gorgeous.” Sansa beamed and reached for the babe.

At Genna’s approaching footsteps, Jaime glanced up. Genna tilted her head and considered him.

“It’s not such a bad thing, Jaime. Now you can focus on your babe with Brienne.”

_ Yes. The happy little family we’ll make. Me in the corner as Brienne and little Tarth play in the gardens. _

Afraid that he might cry if he spoke, Jaime only nodded instead. Genna moved beside Sansa and Tyrion. They laughed and took turns holding the babe. It felt more like Jaime was outside looking in at the perfect family; a ghost watching it all play out.

The door to the study opened slowly and Brienne poked her head in. She had a bundle under her arms and offered a small smile.

“Apologies. A meeting ran over. Are Cersei and the babe alright?”

Genna nodded in response. “Yes. A girl.”

A smile stretched across Brienne’s face and she looked at Jaime. There appeared to be both sadness and happiness there. “Congratulations.”

Moving towards Jaime, Brienne handed him the bundle under her arm. It was a babe’s swaddle of the highest quality and wrapped inside was a small, stuffed lion. The swaddle was a deep crimson fabric that was so soft that Jaime could almost fall asleep on it himself. His House sigil was sewn into the middle.

“I’m not terribly good at sewing. I’m sorry the lion looks a bit deranged.”

It was then that Jaime understood why Brienne’s fingers had been so nicked up for weeks on end. Swallowing thickly, Jaime huffed a laugh and nodded. “That’s very nice. Thank you.”

_ It’s missing a kraken sigil though. _

Standing to leave, Jaime excused himself. He had to get away from the room. Away from the babe and the swell of Brienne’s belly.

Jaime wondered if he could have pretended at the babe being his if the little girl came out with golden hair. He could live in willful ignorance and play the role of father to someone. Moving quickly into his room, Jaime dropped onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow.

All his pain poured out and Jaime screamed into the pillow. His muffled cries opened the floodgates as tears poured from his eyes.

_ I lost it all for nothing. All for Cersei. Why did I let myself think I had a chance at happiness with Brienne after breaking her heart? She  _ **_told_ ** _ me she wanted nothing from this marriage. _

A loud knock startled Jaime. The voice of his aunt drifted under the door. “Jaime. Open the door.”

“No.”

Genna snorted. “Come on. Talk to me, Jaime. Open up.”

“No.”

He didn’t need to see Genna’s reaction to know she was rolling her eyes. It was a familiar scene from his youth. Always the more sensitive of the twins, Jaime became quite familiar with hiding away in his room when his emotions got the best of him. It was Tywin’s greatest demand from Jaime. He wasn’t meant to weep in public like a bloody woman. 

Jaime heard the sound of Genna’s retreating footsteps. Burying his face back into the pillow, Jaime lost himself to spiraling thoughts. Not before long, Jaime fell asleep.

Some hours later, Jaime awoke to a cold, dark room. Sitting upright, Jaime hung his head and sat on the edge of the bed. A desperate need to go to the yards consumed him. Whenever Jaime was upset, having a sword in hand always made him feel better.

Grabbing his sword, Jaime stepped outside his chambers. The Queensguard stood outside Brienne’s door and nodded in greeting. Moving quickly down the hallways, Jaime kept his head down to avoid what he assumed were judgmental stares from the castle occupants.

It was no secret that Cersei was being held until she gave birth. Of course, everyone assumed the babe to be his. It had felt shameful to Jaime that he put babes in two women at the same time; one a former Queen and one the current Queen. Worse that his own sister was one of the queens in question.

He should have felt relieved that the babe wasn’t his, but his emotions from earlier were too raw. All Jaime could think about was never being a father. As he stepped outside the Keep, the cool night air greeted him. It was one of his favorite times to train.

The colder temperature enabled him to stay outside longer without having to retreat for reprieve from the heat. Further, the darkness covered his less skilled movements with the left. Despite coming a long way in his training, Jaime still felt embarrassed at his fumbling movements compared to what he once was.

As he approached the yards, Jaime heard someone else training. Slowing his approach, Jaime saw the familiar outline of Brienne. Her hair shone brightly in the moonlight and her form was unmistakable as she struck the practice dummy repeatedly.

From behind, she hardly looked pregnant. Unlike Cersei, Brienne seemed to carry the babe entirely upfront. Her long, lean form masked how far along she was. It seemed the babe had more room to stretch out than in shorter women. 

“Brienne.”

At her name, Brienne startled. She turned quickly; her eyes heavy with guilt. Her reaction was like a child caught stealing the last sweets from the table.

Jaime’s head tilted slightly. “How… what are you doing?”

“Practicing.”

Stepping closer, Jaime looked around, but he saw no Queensguard. “The guards seem to think you’re in your room.”

Brienne swallowed and looked away. “I know. I like to come down here at night to clear my mind.”

_ Ah. That explains why she retires so early. _

“How are you getting by them unseen?”

Brienne bit her lip; her eyes darting towards the Keep. “I climb down.”

It went against everything that a former Kingsguard wanted to hear. Brienne’s safety was important to Jaime on two levels; as a Queen and as his love. Having her alone in the gardens at night was hardly safe. The fact that a pregnant woman was scaling down the Keep from her room worried him even more.

“You could hurt yourself. Why not just tell the Queensguard? They won’t bother you. They’ll just stand there mutely as you beat the dummy to a pulp.”

Brienne huffed and stood to full height. “Sometimes I just want to be alone. Unseen. I’m not afforded any freedom, and I want to swing a bloody sword. It makes me feel less… lost.”

Jaime understood more than Brienne knew. With a heavy sigh, he nodded. “Please just… be careful. Let me help you up and down at least. I won’t tell anyone, but I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’ll keep an eye on you from afar and ensure you get back in safely.”

A slight bitterness crept into Brienne’s voice as she met Jaime’s eyes. “I can climb the distance as well as I can dismount a horse, thank you.”

Jaime’s mouth clamped shut. Taking a moment to compose himself, Jaime took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I  _ want  _ to help you. If you’ll allow me. I just want to ensure you’re safe.”

Brienne considered the words and offered a stiff nod of acceptance. “Fine.” Her face softened as she met his eyes.

“I’m sorry about the babe. I know how much Cersei means to you and what that babe represented.”

Panic coursed through Jaime and he shook his head in refute. “Cersei means nothing to me. I’m angry that she lied to me  _ again _ , but I didn’t want to have a babe with her.”

Brienne sighed and shook her head. “Stop lying Jaime. We were all in the room. We saw how much it hurt you and I understand. You don’t need to downplay it.”

“Yes, I was upset, but not for the reason you think, Brienne. The babe I want more than anything is ours, but I know that I ruined that chance. I didn’t want a babe with Cersei, but it seemed the only chance I had left to claim a child of my own. Now that’s all gone. I ruined everything and I have nothing.”

Brienne swallowed thickly; her face contorted in pain, but she said nothing. A heavy silence fell over them as both avoided looking at the other. With an uncertain voice, Brienne shared the plan for the babe.

“I’ll legitimize the babe, and I can name her heir to the Rock if you would like that. She is still your niece after all. We’ve brought in a wet nurse for her. Tyrion and Sansa have offered to take in the babe as a ward until the time comes. I imagine you might know this, but they’ve decided to renew their vows.”

The words surprised him. Tyrion had yet to share the update with Jaime, and for some reason, the information hurt more than Jaime expected. His little brother found happiness and while he was thrilled for Tyrion, it would hurt to watch him start a new family while he was still standing in the shadows watching everyone move on.

It felt to Jaime as though he had died when the Mountain’s blade went through him. He was in the Seven Hells watching everyone around him move on happily. His punishment was to play the role of spectator to everyone’s joy. His sins were too great to deserve such happiness.

Jaime felt a slight desperation kick in. The private setting seemed the perfect opportunity to request something so monumental. If she denied him, there was no one around to see his tears.

“Can… can I hold the babe when he or she is born.”


	30. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne responds to Jaime's question. She gets an update from Bran - the first of two unfortunate updates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple posting day! This is the second chapter of a triple posting day. I'll have the third up in a hour or so.

“Can… can I hold the babe when he or she is born.”

Brienne felt like she had been shoved off a cliff at the request. She thought of the past weeks as she stared blankly at Jaime.

Every day that Maester Tyton arrived noting Cersei’s continued pregnancy, Brienne felt the wound deepen. It seemed obvious that Jaime had continued bedding Cersei for longer than he was willing to admit. The truth would have been too exposing.

Then the babe came out with Greyjoy features. When Jaime left, Genna shared what Maester Tyton admitted. Cersei lied at the babe’s conception to let Jaime and everyone else think it was his. She knew it wasn’t Jaime’s and she said as much in the cells.

It hurt Brienne to see Jaime in so much pain. She wanted to hold him close and soothe him. The babe he desperately longed for had been taken away from him. Jaime’s love for Cersei seemed as unrequited as Brienne’s love for him.  _ I love Jaime. Jaime loves Cersei. Cersei loves power. _

She understood Jaime’s pain better than he realized. A small part of Brienne had worried that Jaime may love their babe less than Cersei’s. Theirs was an unplanned babe. A babe that Jaime obviously wanted as much as he desired to see brown hair atop the crown of Cersei’s babe.

Now as he stood before her in the yards that night, his words confirmed as much.

_ “I didn’t want a babe with Cersei, but it seemed the only chance I would have to claim a child of my own. Now that’s all gone. I ruined everything and I have nothing” _

_He ruined everything by leaving Cersei’s side to honor his pledge to the living. Is it my fault? Did my words at the dragonpit make him feel guilty? Because of me, his love sought out another while he was away. Now he has nothing._ _Me and this babe are nothing to him._

Then he made his request.

_ “Can… can I hold the babe when he or she is born.” _

Brienne wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Just as she would always live in Cersei’s shadow, her babe would live in the shadow of his preferred babe that would never come to pass. A poor substitute for a man who just lost everything.

It hurt Brienne to think that her babe would be no different than herself in Jaime’s eyes. A consolation prize. Brienne wanted to protect her child from that, but she would  _ never  _ deny Jaime holding his child, even if it broke her heart.

For Brienne, it seemed she was destined to put her own needs and desires second to everyone else; including a man who could never see her as she saw him. With a small nod, Brienne gave Jaime the answer that  _ he _ wanted.

“Of course you can. The babe is yours. I’ll never deprive you of that.”

Jaime seemed shocked by the answer. He took a step forward; his eyes filled with hope. “Truly?”

_ Does he think me as spiteful as Cersei? _

“I would never prevent you from holding your babe. You’re this child’s father. I’m just sorry that…”  _ the babe can’t replace what you just lost. _

Jaime smiled widely at the words. “Thank you. I’ve never held a babe before. I suppose I can practice with my niece so that I don’t fuck it up. Does uh… did they name her?”

Brienne nodded and offered a polite smile. “Jeyne. Genna suggested it. It was her mother’s name?”

“Yes, our grandmother. She was a good woman. Hopefully the babe will be more her than Cersei.”

Another awkward silence fell over them and Brienne thought it best to head back to her room. Before she could turn to leave, Jaime was speaking again and taking a step forward.

“I know you’re quite busy during the day. Perhaps I could watch the babe for you while you’re at court or in council meetings. I don’t seem to add much there anyway. When the babe gets older, I can teach him or her the sword and to ride! I can take him or her to the sea to swim or to fish. The games at the orphanage are quite fun. I could do that!”

Brienne hesitated at the request. She would never keep Jaime from his babe, but it pained Brienne to think of her babe being used to fill an emotional void for the babe he truly wanted with Cersei. It seemed unclear which was worse; a distant father or a father who always looked to a child with regret for what he could never have.

“Yes, of course. I… I’m very tired, Jaime. Let's discuss this all later. I’ll not keep you from your child.”

Jaime’s face fell slightly at the words. “Right.”

“I better get back.”

The words came out and it felt like Winterfell all over again. Brienne walked away as Jaime stood in the yards. His face held the same lost expression it did that day when he approached her while Pod trained. Moving towards the Keep, Brienne took a deep breath and tried to push away the hurt for her and her babe.

As she approached the wall and looked up to her balcony, Brienne heard Jaime’s footsteps approach quickly at her back. “Just wait. Let me help.”

_ Seven hells. _

“I can climb just fine, Jaime. The distance isn’t even twice my height.”

If Brienne wasn’t pregnant, she imagined it would be easier to climb halfway down and jump the rest of the way. It truly wasn’t a far climb given the location of the rooms and the slant of the hill.

Jaime moved to her back. “I know. Just let me stand here to ensure you don’t fall.”

His hand moved to Brienne’s back as she began to climb with ease. In no time at all, she was over the balcony and glanced down at him with a raised brow.

“There. All in one piece.”

With a small wave, Jaime moved back towards the yards. Brienne walked into the room and prepared for bed. Tomorrow they would prepare for Cersei’s trial. It seemed a blessing and a curse to be rid of the vile woman. Unfortunately, her looming execution would cause Jaime more pain than Brienne cared to think on. She resolved that no matter how much it would hurt her, she would be there for him in whatever way he needed. It would be his second loss in such a short span of time.

Brienne struggled to find sleep that night. Nightmares of Jaime rescuing Cersei from execution caused a fitful sleep. When at last the sun came up, Brienne felt as she did the morning after Jaime left Winterfell. She called for a bath before beginning the day.

Strangely, no knock came at her shared door with Jaime that morning. A rumble in Brienne’s stomach begged her to proceed without him, but she made a promise and would honor it.

Moving to the door, Brienne heard Jaime’s voice on the other side. No one was responding to his words, but based on his tone and the words spoken, Brienne knew he had Jeyne with him.

“You’re much too pretty to be Euron’s daughter. I suppose not all krakens are bad. Will you let me play with you?” A momentary pause came from the room before Jaime’s voice drifted under the door once more. “What a face! You could just say ‘no’ politely. You don’t need to glare at me like you mother always did.”

Brienne’s heart fell at the words.

_ Will my babe be beautiful like Cersei or will I pass on my ugliness? What if the babe looks like me? Will Jaime resent the child? Will he regret that Jeyne isn’t his? Does he hope to see Cersei’s features in the babe? Does he hope to be reminded of his love in that way? _

Backing away from the door, Brienne gripped the table to steady herself. The emotional pain seemed tangible. Genna’s words continued to hold true with every passing day.

_ “Mark my words, you will both suffer in this.” _

Brienne brought her hand to her swell and bit back a sob.

_ I’ll love you no matter what. You’ll  _ **_always_ ** _ have me. I’ll never leave you. I’ll stay. _

Moving from the room, Brienne made her way to the throne room. That morning she had to forgo visiting the orphanage. Petitioners were to be received at court and Brienne’s presence was necessary.

Walking into the empty hall, Brienne looked at the throne. Her father had brought it from Tarth as a nameday gift. It was the seat her ancestors sat on when the Evenstars were Kings in their own right. It was solid wood with triangular and decorative carvings. A sunburst was at the center point and the cushion was blue and of velvet fabric. 

Staring at the throne, Brienne considered her duty-bound ancestors sitting atop it and ruling to the best of their abilities. That is what she would do no matter her personal pain. She would focus on the people and their needs.

“Your Grace.”

Tyrion’s voice called out to Brienne from the side of the throne room. Turning to him, Brienne offered a small smile. He had a missive in hand that was still sealed.

“This came for you.” Moving forward, Tyrion extended his hand, but he retracted it quickly before she could take it.

“Brienne, what’s wrong?”

_ I’ve not been crying. Do I look worse than usual from little sleep? _

“I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Tyrion sagged slightly at the words. With a sigh befitting a man twice his size, he looked away and shook his head.

“Yesterday was… revealing. I’m sorry about it all.”

_ ‘It all’ as in ‘Jaime’. Heartbroken at Cersei’s latest betrayal. Heartbroken at the loss of the babe he desperately wanted with her. _

“You don’t need to apologize. I understand how he feels. I can’t imagine it is easy to love someone so much, but that person only lets you down time and time again. Cersei shouldn’t have lied to him.”

Tyrion shook his head. “Apologies, I was unclear. I meant to apologize for the emotional strain that Cersei put you and Jaime under. I don’t know what she sought to gain by lying at the babe’s parentage… well, actually I do imagine what she hoped would happen. Had she not lied however, you and Jaime would have been able to move forward easier as you prepare for your babe. She lied to you both. Please, just don’t think that my brother retains any love for Cersei.”

Reaching for the missive, Brienne shook her head. “Cersei never lied to me. Only Jaime did.”

Begrudgingly, Tyrion handed Brienne the missive. It bore the sigil of House Stark which meant another update from Bran on the Dragon Queen’s movements.

_ Your Grace, _

_ It is with great regret that I provide this update. I failed to see it before, but Euron Greyjoy survived the battle of the mad queens. He sailed to Essos to procure another army using hidden funds left over from the siege at Highgarden. He now has 5,000 sellswords at his back. _

_ He followed rumors of the Dragon Queen’s return and thirst for revenge against Jon. Under disguise, he has treated with Daenerys. In exchange for helping her find and kill Jon Snow, she will help him conquer the crown with fire and blood. _

_ They are soon to make their way across the Narrow Sea. I have an idea for how we can best defend against them, but I need to be in King’s Landing. By the time you receive this missive, I’ll be underway. I should get there at least a fortnight before Daenerys and Euron, who is going by the name ‘Balon’, make landfall at Dragonstone. We should have Jon leave the island immediately and seek shelter in the Crownlands. _

_ Yours _

_ Bran _

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Brienne sighed. It seemed that nothing could go smoothly.

“We need to delay taking petitioners, Lord Tyrion. Let's call the small council immediately to discuss this.”

Handing Tyrion the parchment, Brienne watched his face fall as he read it over. “ _ Seven hells. _ I’ll get everyone and speak to the guard about holding the petitioners at the gates.”

The day passed in a blur. They discussed all manner of strategies concerning the looming threat across the sea. More scorpions would need to be built and placed atop the battlements. As usual, Bran’s lack of insight to his plans did little to help matters.

Brienne had seen the dragon’s destruction the last time the city was attacked. She refused to let harm befall the people once more. She would defend them with everything she had.

They would need to order an evacuation to ensure the safety of all. Further, she worried at how the Unsullied and Dothraki would react to hearing of Daenerys’ return to their world.

It was all too much, and Brienne needed rest. Her back felt in shambles from the weight of the babe, and sleep eluded her of late; particularly the night prior.

Returning to her chambers even earlier than usual, Brienne curled onto her side and tried desperately to find sleep. When she did find rest, the nightmares were worse than the night prior. Her dreams were plagued with Daenerys bringing fire and blood to King’s Landing. Despite her efforts to stop it, she failed.

A loud knock at the door shook Brienne from sleep. Bolting upright in a panic, Brienne looked to the balcony. Judging by the lighting, it was late in the evening. Brienne rubbed the sleep from eyes and tried to push away the horrifying images of her dream.

Shuffling to the door, Brienne was surprised to see Addam outside. “Your Grace, Cersei has escaped.”

_ Oh Gods. This can’t be happening. This is still a dream. Wake up! Wake up! _

Backing up slowly in a panic, a terrifying thought washed over Brienne. Jaime hadn’t been in council all day. Running to Jaime’s door, she threw it open. The one thing she feared most slapped her across the face.

_ He’s gone. He and Cersei.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is why I had to triple post today. I can't leave anyone reading hanging in such an angsty way (looking at you US election).


	31. The Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime makes some surprisingly realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter of a three chapter posting day.

After spending much of the day at the orphanage, Jaime made his way back towards the Keep. He was surprised to see Ned and Quellon still in the city; particularly as Ned had not been at the orphanage.

Something about their path back to the Keep struck Jaime as odd. Following them, he observed the pair enter the cave that led into the bowels of the Keep. Jaime followed closely, but not so close as to rouse suspicion. 

Ducking into the tunnel, Jaime struggled to see the way forward without a torch. He moved slowly so as not to make too much noise. Following their voices, Jaime considered which direction they went. No one knew the tunnels as well as Jaime and he could navigate them well enough in the dark.

Up ahead on the right, Jaime heard their voices. It was Ned who spoke.

“The  _ true  _ Queen?”

There was a pause before Quellon replied; his voice echoing slightly off the tunnel walls. “That Stormlander isn’t the only one. Some of the castle staff too. I’m just sayin’… think about it. War is comin’. People call for the true Queen back. What do ya think?”

_ Fuck! I have to get to Brienne and the council. She’s in danger. _

The voices grew distant as they moved further into the tunnels. Having heard enough to be concerned, Jaime moved left. He knew another tunnel that would take him towards the map room. Making his way through the dark, Jaime tripped over fallen rocks not yet cleared from the destruction the dragon queen brought.

Moving forward, Jaime felt a slight breeze ahead. He knew his path to be nearing its end before he had to turn right and up a set of stairs towards the map room. Striding more confidently, Jaime felt the anger bubble within at Ned’s and Quellon’s betrayal of Brienne.

_ How could they consider moving against Brienne? Did Ned pretend at interest in her to get something from her? Does he have ulterior motives?  _

Jaime felt betrayed on Brienne’s behalf. It hurt to think that Ned could have lied to Brienne for his own gain. The thought made Jaime take pause. Stopping in his tracks, Jaime felt his breath catch.

_ She thinks that’s what I’m doing for Cersei. _

For the first time he understood it. Jaime felt an urgency to get to Brienne. Running through the tunnel, Jaime’s mind was awhirl. Despair tore at Jaime as a pair of sapphire eyes led him out of the darkness. 

As Jaime put his right foot down, something shifted below his feet. His stomach dropped as his body began to freefall. Reaching out, Jaime’s arms flailed as he plummeted into the darkness. The last thing he remembered was pain.

Jaime came to in the blackness of the Keep’s deepest tunnels. His head throbbed and his body ached. Feeling around, Jaime realized he was atop a pile of rocks. Rolling onto his back, Jaime grabbed his head and groaned. 

_ Fuck. It hurts. Where am I?  _

It was an alarming sensation to see nothing but pitch black. Pushing to his feet, Jaime swayed slightly. Retracing his steps in his mind, Jaime realized he must have fallen a level. The tunnel system below the Keep was long and winding. There were multiple levels that ran all the way down to the beach by the Blackwater. 

_ I fell through one level. How the fuck do I get out? _

It wasn’t often that Jaime ventured that low into the tunnels. Going off memory alone, he moved forward, but more cautiously. With each step, Jaime tested the flooring below his feet. 

It suddenly occurred to him how dangerous and unstable the tunnels were after the siege. It was not an area the masons had focused their efforts during the rebuild. The tunnels were not familiar to most nor were they well mapped out.

Making his way through the darkness, Jaime could think of little more than Brienne and their babe. He needed to get to her. If anything happened to them, he could never forgive himself. With a clear understanding of the pain she had been feeling, Jaime felt a greater sense of direction than he had in moons.

_ I should have strangled Cersei the moment after Jeyne was born. ‘True queen’ my ass.  _

The tunnels seemed to stretch on forever. At many points, Jaime had to climb over piles of rock to find his way out. Soon he was back on the same level that he had fallen from. Making his way towards a different exit point, Jaime soon found himself outside the cells. 

The castle was abuzz with activity as Jaime stepped into the hallway. At his approach, the guards took notice and yelled for Ser Balon.

“He’s here! We got one of them!”

_ One of them? What? _

Storming around the corner was Ser Balon. His lips were drawn in a thin line as she appraised Jaime. “Ser Jaime! With us.  _ Now! _ ”

“What’s going on? I have to speak with Brienne. She isn’t safe.”

Balon scoffed and grabbed his arm. “You think!? You, Cersei, and Quellon have been missing.” 

“You think I had anything to do with this!? Where is  _ Ned _ !?”

Making their way through the Keep, Jaime was brought into the throne room. The small council, Brienne, Genna, Ned, and four Queensguard occupied the space. 

Arya approached quickly and spoke through gritted teeth. “Where the  _ fuck  _ have you been? Why are you covered in dust and bleeding?” 

Jaime could hardly be bothered with her inquiry, Jaime’s eyes were locked on Ned. “ _ You!  _ Traitor!”

Lunging at Ned, Jaime tackled the young lord to the ground. Before he could land a blow, Jaime was being pulled from the Dornish envoy. Ned’s eyes were wide in shock. As the guards tried to restrain Jaime, he barked at Ned.

“After  _ everything _ , you betray Brienne!?”

Brienne stepped forward; her eyes wide in confusion. “What is going on? Where have you been?” Scanning his body, Brienne’s brows furrowed. “What happened to you?”

“I fell through the tunnels.”

At his words, Sansa took a wary step forward. Her eyes were filled with doubt as she appraised him. “What were you doing in the tunnels?”

Glaring at Ned, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth. “I followed Ned and Quellon back from the city. Something seemed off and I heard them speaking about the ‘true queen’ and an uprising. I tried to get by them without being seen, but I fell through.”

Suspicious eyes turned to Ned who backed up in panic; his hands raised defensively. “I can explain. This isn’t how it looks.”

Brienne’s voice sounded as broken as her expression when she replied. “Ned? Is this true?”

The young lord implored Brienne to hear him out. “Quellon approached me about rumors he has been hearing. He seemed interested in joining a cause against you, but I never agreed. I only listened to him to try and obtain information. I was going to follow him myself. To keep an eye on him.”

Jaime glanced at Brienne to gauge her response. The hurt in her eyes broke his heart. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? We’ve had men searching the city for hours. Where did they go? How many?” 

Ned shook his head; his face riddled with pain. “I’m so sorry. As I said when I arrived just moments ago, I had to go back into the city. An attendant told me there was an issue at the orphanage. I didn’t know for certain that Quellon was planning to join them, and I certainly didn’t think anything would happen tonight. He merely made it seem like rumors. I didn’t realize he was missing.”

Genna barked at the young man as she moved quickly to Jaime’s side. “Do you see him here, boy!? If you had told us sooner, we could have arrested him! We would have placed extra guards at Cersei’s cell or just slit her damn throat and been done with it! I didn’t even want to give the mad bitch a trial!” 

At Jaime’s side, Arya appraised him. “Why were you outside the Keep to begin with? You’ve not been in council all day.”

“I was at the orphanage. What day is it even?”

Jaime appraised the windows to try and gauge the hour by the light filtering through. 

“Sun should be up soon. Looks to be a nice day.” Sam’s ever-chipper tone echoed off the walls. His words elicited an eyeroll and groan from those assembled.

“You’re a daft cunt.” The Hound grumbled under his breath as he shook his head in disdain. 

Brienne muttered something to Sansa under her breath and left the throne room. Her face appeared pained and Jaime moved to go after her, but Arya grabbed his arm. 

“Give her a moment.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. “A moment for what?”

Arya rolled her eyes and pulled him aside. “You’ve been missing for  _ hours _ . You and Cersei. Now you come in here stating the man she thought a friend was aware of this. Like I said. Give her a moment.” Arya raised a brow and let the implications wash over them. Jaime’s desperate thoughts on the tunnels came rushing back now that his anger with Ned had subsided. 

Over the next hour, guards returned with reports of the areas they searched. None of the large ships were missing from the harbor, and no one saw Quellon, Cersei, or any suspicious groups passing through. Jaime sat and worried after Brienne. It broke his heart that she was constantly feeling betrayed by those closest to her; even if untrue. 

Arriving at his room, Jaime slipped inside. The room was dark and cold. It was likely the staff didn’t bother to tend it after thinking he fled. The door to Brienne’s room was slightly ajar and he moved to shut it. Glancing into the room, Jaime saw Brienne tossing and turning. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes and Jaime couldn’t help but walk towards her.

“Brienne. Are you alright?”

Brienne stiffened at the sound of his voice. “I’m fine.”

Approaching the bed, Jaime tried to see her face, but her back was mostly to him. 

“I’m sorry for how that must have looked.”

“It’s fine.” Brienne’s voice sounded anything but fine. 

“Please talk to me. You don’t sound fine and you don’t look to be fine.”

“It’s not…” Brienne cut herself off. “I just don’t sleep well. My back and my mind keep me awake.”

Jaime remembered Cersei always complaining of the same issue near the end of her pregnancies. Of course, there was little he could do to help. Grandmaetser Pycelle had recommended a pillow between the knees to better align the spine, but that only seemed to help so much.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime sat on the edge of the bed with his back to Brienne. “I understand it now. When I heard Ned and Quellon speaking in the tunnels, I was so angry at what seemed a betrayal. I worried that Ned feigned interest in you to achieve some hidden objective. I don’t know. Power perhaps? It hurt to hear on your behalf, but then I realized it. That’s what you think I’m doing for Cersei. Don’t you?”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne buried her face in the pillow, and he knew his thoughts were true. All he came to know of Brienne over the years played out before him. Treated cruelly and discarded as worthless. Mocked by her peers; himself included. Made a game of by Renly’s men. Abandoned.

“I’m so sorry, Brienne. I should have stayed at Winterfell with you or at least told you the truth of it. I’ll never betray you or give aid to Cersei. I swear it. I’m here and I want to stay; if you’ll have me.”

Moving into the bed with Brienne, Jaime wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her flush against him and buried his face in the back of her neck.

“I love you. You and no one else. I’ll never stop loving you.”

Brienne rolled in his arms. Her face looked pained. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

Jaime held her close for some time. He wondered where they would be if he had just stayed the first time. If he had left Cersei to die on her own. It seemed Cersei never truly needed him anyway; certainly not to enter the Stranger’s arms.

Running his hand through Brienne’s hair, Jaime mumbled into her head. “Can I try something to help you?”

Toeing off his boots and removing the false hand, Jaime lay flat on his back. “Just put your leg over me like a pillow. It should help your back.

“You needn’t do that. It’s fine.”

“You’re carrying our babe. Just stop being so stubborn for once. You look exhausted.”

Jaime shifted higher on the bed and slid his right arm under Brienne’s head. Moving closer, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s right leg and pulled it over his own legs. Brienne seemed hesitant, but her body relaxed as Jaime then began rubbing her lower back with his hand. 

“Does it hurt less?”

With Brienne’s forehead at his neck, Jaime could feel her reply as much as he heard her. “Yes.”

The swell of her belly was pressed close at his side and Jaime had to resist the urge to lay his hand on it. Instead, he concentrated on rubbing her back. Jaime would gladly stay up all night rubbing her back if it helped her sleep.

Brienne stiffened once more in his arms and wiped at her eyes. It occurred to Jaime that she was trying to hold back from crying. 

“You were gone much of the day. You’ve been gone a lot lately.”

Jaime wondered if she imagined he had been plotting Cersei’s escape all this time. He grimaced at the thought. “I’ve been at the orphanage. I just thought... never mind.”

“What?” 

It was embarrassing to admit his desperation for love and a babe to call his own. With a heavy sigh, Jaime spoke earnestly. 

“I never wanted to be a father until you. I meant what I said yesterday. Having another babe by Cersei wasn’t what I wanted, but I hurt you and now our babe isn’t mine to claim. I started to think that Cersei’s babe was the only way I could be a father. Now I don’t have that babe either. I just thought perhaps the children at the orphanage could use a father figure as much as I would like to be one.”

Brienne pushed up on her elbow to stare into his eyes. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at him. 

“I would never keep you from this babe. Even if you left me, this babe is yours. I’d ensure you are the only father whom he or she knows. I could never deny you that.”

The words of reassurance meant more to Jaime than Brienne would ever know. Jaime brought his hand to her cheek. His thumb stroked her soft skin as she settled back down against him. Jaime turned to kiss Brienne’s forehead, and for a moment, it almost felt like being back at Winterfell. Like he never left.

They lay there for some time, but then Jaime felt something move against his side. Brienne’s voice was growing heavy with sleep as she replied.

“Sorry. The babe moves a lot at night. It’s constant.”

Jaime felt his breathing stop. His hand itched to feel the babe move, but he bit his lip and kept rubbing Brienne’s back. It hurt to not feel entitled to touch her belly just as he had not been allowed to with Cersei’s. The only time he felt the swell of a babe within, it turned out to be Euron’s. Just one of Cersei’s mind games to get Jaime to do her bidding at the cottage. 

Jaime tried to remove the sorrow from his voice as he spoke. “The babe is practicing footwork for swordplay. A proper knight like you.”

Brienne’s hand reached around her back to remove Jaime’s hand. His spirits fell thinking she would send him back to his room. Then she placed his hand on her belly. Brienne’s hand held his palm flat as their babe kicked aggressively.

A tear-filled laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Our little knight.” A wide smile stretched across his face as he relished the feel of their babe moving between them.

“Very annoying. Never seems to leave the yards.” Brienne muttered into Jaime’s neck. She quickly removed her hand and stammered an apology.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to force your hand.”

Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand; lacing his fingers with hers. Bringing their joined hands back on top of her belly, Jaime smiled. 

“I never got to before. Thank you.”

They laid with their hands locked together over Brienne’s swell. When they both found sleep, it was peaceful. 


	32. The Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King's Landing prepares for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains NSFW content at the beginning

Brienne awoke as she did every morning for the past moon turn. Her right leg and arm were slung over Jaime’s body. Her face was nestled into his neck. As most mornings, Jaime’s hand was on the swell of her belly. If she closed her eyes and let herself drift, Brienne could pretend that she could have been his first choice.

For the past moon turn, Brienne tried to convince herself that it was fine to be the second choice. Having Jaime’s love and presence should be enough. For much of her life, Brienne hadn’t expected to be anyone’s last choice let alone second. Surely, to be the second choice after a woman as beautiful as Cersei wasn’t so bad.

Except that Cersei was mad. She was mad and missing.

Considering the events of the past five moon turns, Brienne reprimanded herself for not being happy enough. She had been accepted by her peers. She had more friends now than she had in all other years of life combined. She had been sought after by a young, handsome, eligible man in Ned. She had been chosen second by the most amazing man she had ever known; the man she loved to nearly unbearable levels.

Jaime stirred under her. His thumb slowly rubbed the swell of her belly as he came to. At eight moons, Brienne felt ready to explode. Everything was an effort and Brienne wanted the babe out immediately.

The more the days dragged on and Brienne’s discomfort grew, the more Brienne lamented not providing Cersei with more appropriate sleeping arrangements in her final weeks. Being pregnant was uncomfortable enough let alone enduring it in the cells.

As Jaime caressed her swell, the babe responded. It always seemed to be that way when Jaime was near. The babe sensed his proximity and touch. Brienne wondered if the babe was merely responding to her own quickening heart whenever with Jaime.

“Morning.” Jaime’s voice was heavy with sleep, but Brienne could feel him smile against her head.

“Morning.”

Jaime pulled back slightly. “Oh. I wasn’t talking to you. I was speaking to the babe.”

Brienne huffed and rolled her eyes. Aside from sending the babe into a frenzy, talking to her belly had become Jaime’s second favorite activity.

Rolling to her back, Brienne rubbed her eyes. Her shoulder length hair fell messily on the pillow. The feeling of being stared at caused Brienne to turn her head left. She was met with a pair of green eyes that were far too soft for her liking.

_ Why does he do this to me? It makes me feel like he is looking at me, but seeing someone else. Someone beautiful like Cersei. My face doesn’t produce that kind of reaction from people. _

Brienne cleared her throat in the hope it would shake Jaime from whatever vision he was having. “What?”

“Morning.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, just about.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jaime’s lip. “I mean  _ good morning _ . Now I’m speaking to you.”

Closing the space between them, Jaime placed a chaste kiss to Brienne’s lips. It was another change to their unusual arrangement over the past moon turn. Brienne allowed Jaime’s soft touch and chaste kisses.

Despite questioning whether it was wise to expose her heart to Jaime once more, the physical touch made Jaime happy, and Brienne wanted for nothing more than to see him happy. Even if it broke her more and more.

It saddened Brienne that Jaime had spent so long despairing at the thought of not having a babe to claim. Even if they were apart, she would never deny Jaime his child. Brienne was not a cruel woman and she wanted to ensure Jaime’s happiness.

Brienne hated that it felt so impossible to be wholly loved romantically. Despite everything going on, Jaime had stayed true. He could have fled with Cersei, but he stayed. That much alone encouraged Brienne to slowly let her walls down.

The small voice in the back of her mind mocked her. It was the voice that sounded far too much like Septa Roelle for Brienne’s liking.

_ ‘Stupid girl. He stayed because of betrayal by the woman he loves. The same reason he crawled into your bed drunk up north. Cersei’s babe wasn’t his, and now he clings to you as the second-best option. You’ll never be enough.’ _

Pushing away the voice, Brienne forced a smile as Jaime traced the freckles on her face. Judging by the limited light in the sky, it was still quite early. Brienne let her eyes flutter shut under Jaime’s touch. The bed shifted slightly as Jaime moved closer. Then Brienne felt his lips on hers once more.

Unlike the first kiss, Jaime’s lip lingered. His breath tickled her skin and the scent of him stirred something deep within Brienne’s core. Jaime placed more exploratory kisses to Brienne’s lips; each growing more insistent on something more.

Brienne knew she should get out of the bed. Intimacy was something she still struggled to afford Jaime. It felt too whorish when Brienne struggled to feel lovable and anything but second best. While she didn’t question that Jaime thought himself in love with her, she couldn’t help the voice in the back of her head.

It was Roelle’s voice that reminded Brienne that Jaime’s love was a conciliatory love. The love of a brokenhearted, good man seeking acceptance and requited affections. Still, Brienne couldn’t push him away. She could never seem to stop giving more than could be returned.

As Jaime encouraged her lips apart with his tongue, his hand moved down her side. Brienne’s body temperature was elevated at night, and she took to sleeping in only a night shift and her smallclothes. For his part, Jaime slept in naught by his smallclothes.

Brienne felt Jaime’s fingers trace down her side and towards her smallclothes. His hand reached inside, and his fingers rubbed her sensitive nub. The feel of his hard cock against her side made Brienne’s desire increase.

It was hardly the first morning his cock strained in his smallclothes. On most occasions, Jaime moved quietly from the bed and to his room. Brienne hated those moments. It made her wonder if he was thinking of Cersei and didn’t want Brienne to see that lingering desire.

Even now, she wondered if Cersei was what he envisioned to allow his body to react so strongly. Brienne felt pathetic allowing it, but her body ached for Jaime in the most excruciating of ways.

Jaime’s fingers slipped between her folds as his thumb continued to place pressure against her nub. Arching into his touch, Brienne chastised herself for being so desperate.

“Brienne.” Her name on Jaime’s lips startled her. In truth, she feared Jaime breathing Cersei’s name against her lips.

The bed shifted once more as Jaime kneeled between her legs. Given her belly, their bodies could not lay flush together and it left Brienne feeling too exposed. Jaime’s knees pushed Brienne’s legs apart as his fingers pushed deeper between her folds.

His mouth moved from Brienne’s lips to her jaw. Through the thin fabric of his smallclothes, Brienne could feel the head of Jaime’s cock pushing against her inner thigh as his fingers moved in and out of her folds. An overwhelming sensation to have Jaime inside her encouraged Brienne’s hands to his smallclothes.

_ Please, please don’t stop thinking of me. Don’t think of Cersei. _

Jaime removed his fingers and took himself in hand. Positioning himself at Brienne’s entrance, Jaime began to push inside. The slow effort with which Jaime filled Brienne tortured her. When at last Jaime was fully sheathed in her, he began to rock them slowly.

On account of her swell, Jaime had to lean back slightly to get the right angle and depth. Brienne could feel Jaime staring at her as he moved unhurriedly in and out. She was afraid to look. Afraid that if they made eye contact, he would truly see her.

“Brienne.”

Her eyes watered at her name on his lips once more. At the observation, Jaime stilled.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

Brienne shook her head in refute.

“What’s wrong?”

Whether it was the vulnerability at having Jaime’s cock inside her, or the pregnancy producing a sea of emotions she could not hold back, Brienne gave an unguarded answer. An answer that physically pained her to voice aloud.

“I don’t… I don’t know how you can look upon me and manage to do this.”

The air seemed to leave the room at her admission. When Jaime didn’t answer, Brienne wanted to hide her face in shame. Forcing her eyes to Jaime, she saw a pained expression stretch across his features.

“How can you say that?”

The answer seemed obvious. Uglier in daylight. Ugly in any light.

“I know that I’m not beautiful. My septa suggested it should be dark or the man drunk.”

_ Drunk like at Winterfell that first time. _

Jaime swallowed thickly and looked away. It was difficult to discern his thoughts as several emotions seemed to flash across his face. Jaime withdrew from her and moved back to her side.

_ Did I ruin it by stating the obvious? Did I break him from whatever spell he was under to enable that? _

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Jaime shook his head. “I didn’t want to say what I’m about to say with my cock inside you. I never want to mention  _ her _ when we’re doing  _ that _ .”

Brienne’s stomach dropped at the reference to Cersei. The older twin’s shadow was long and fully engulfing. It would afford no light for Jaime’s love for another to grow.

Jaime pulled Brienne close and raised his stump between them. “Do you think this is as ugly as I think it is?”

Brienne startled at the words. “What? Of course not!”

“Why not? It doesn’t seem pleasing to look upon. I’m missing a hand and have only terrible scars atop a poorly healed wrist.”

Shaking her head, Brienne met Jaime’s eyes. “You lost that hand defending me. I don’t see anything ugly about it.”

Jaime shrugged. “Cersei thought it was heinous too. Just like I do. She made me wear the false hand when we… fucked. She never let me take it off. It’s too ugly.”

Brienne’s heart broke for Jaime. “I’m sorry that you lost the hand. I should have let them…”

“Don’t. I’m not sorry. I don’t regret why I lost it, and I’d do it again for you. That doesn’t mean it isn’t unsightly.”

“Stop saying that. It isn’t unsightly.” Brienne felt her frustration building. She didn’t like hearing Jaime speak about himself in such a manner.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “So, you think that I’m wrong? You think that  _ everyone _ is wrong, who thinks it unsightly?”

“Yes.”

Jaime’s smile stretched wider. “Well I don’t care what anyone else sees when they look at you. I hate that you think you’re ugly. To me you’re beautiful.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed. She understood the logic, but it still felt different.

“You’re a handsome man who lost his hand doing a brave and honorable thing. I’m just ugly. I don’t think that’s the same, Jaime.”

With a slight shrug, Jaime kept staring at her. “Beauty is subjective though. Others and I think my stump ugly, but you don’t. You and others think yourself ugly, but I don’t. You can no sooner tell me what I find beautiful, than I can tell you what tastes good. It’s rather personal in nature.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. She had never considered that, but rather took at value a lifetime worth of condemnation.

_ Can I truly be thought of as ugly by all the world except one person? _

Recalling the past year, Brienne questioned her own thoughts. Ned had thought her beautiful too. Despite the pain at thinking him false, which was proved untrue, he remained a friend. A friend who admitted to being jealous of Jaime. A friend who wished they had met first. A friend who more than once called her beautiful.

Others had complimented her too. Perhaps not to such an extreme, but they noted specific features that were not entirely ugly. Her eyes. Her smile. Her heart.

Leaning in, Jaime kissed Brienne gently and brushed her cheek with his thumb. The kiss deepened once more before Jaime broke it. “Can we go back to making love now? I was quite enjoying myself until you interrupted me with your Targaryen madness.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and huffed, though a smirk broke through her annoyance. It was in moments such as that where Brienne felt the most pain. The part of her holding back from stripping herself bare prevented Brienne from truly enjoying the easy rapport she once had with Jaime at Winterfell.

There had been an ease to their relationship. They never spoke of love nor their regard for one another, but they shared their lives. Even the daily routines of eating, tidying their room, and dressing, felt intimate. When they spoke, there was a fun banter that always made Brienne smile in anticipation when Jaime approached.

Then something struck Brienne as odd.

_ He said ‘fucked’ with Cersei, but ‘making love’ with me? _

When at last they emerged from their room, Pod and Grey Worm stood outside the door.

“Good morning Torgo. Pod.”

The men smiled and returned Brienne’s greeting. In private, she dropped the titles and spoke to the men as she considered them; dear friends. There were no titles between them out of public just as there were no titles with the Stark sisters or Jaime.

Making their way to council, Brienne felt a slight cramping in her belly. It was not an usual sensation. The longer her pregnancy went, the more uncomfortable she became. As if sensing her discomfort, Jaime’s left hand reached for hers which was holding the crook of his right elbow.

“Are you alright?”

With a weak smile, Brienne hummed in affirmation. They reached the small council chamber and Brienne raised a brow at Jaime before they entered.

“Do try not to instigate with Dorne today. I hope you’ve come up with more appropriate plans than the last. We will not be using Ned as a decoy for Drogon.”

Jaime smirked and hummed in feigned innocence. “Whatever do you mean? I thought you appreciated my military strategies.”

Before they stepped inside, Jaime raised his elbow to kiss Brienne’s hand which was now digging into the flesh of his arm. A cutting smile tugged at his lips before they stepped inside.

A moon turn ago when Cersei fled, Brienne named Jaime as Master of War. The night of Cersei’s escape when Jaime held Brienne close and told her how useless he felt in council, Brienne was shocked.

Jaime was always the first person who Brienne looked to when gauging reaction to proposed laws or amendments. He had more experience supporting and defending the crown than all those assembled. It seemed an obvious solution when the need for defense against the incoming threat presented itself.

Jaime took to the role like a fish to water. He made immediate plans for defense of the city. The people would be evacuated to more secure holdings in the Crownlands, Stormlands, and the West. Along the eastern coast of Westeros, they prepared for war.

Each Great House or House in the direct path of Daenerys, such as Tarth, began their plans for defense under Jaime’s guidance. He had faced the dragon once on the goldroad, fought below it at Winterfell, and fled from it during the last attack on King’s Landing. He understood the unique threat coming their way.

He also understood the Greyjoy fleet from Euron’s time at court. He understood how Euron would command the ships if the sellswords and his limited crew of rebel Ironborn chose to attack on the Blackwater.

Jaime knew enough of the sellswords from the Free Cities. The Golden Company had been the most expensive and sought after. Of the sellsword companies remaining, Jaime suspected that Euron had procured the Windblown or Second Sons. Given Daenerys’ prior affiliation with the Second Sons, it seemed they were the most likely option.

He understood the weapons they used and their reputation in battle. Word was sent to the noted Houses preparing for war. Tarth had evacuated to the mainland and Selwyn would arrive in a matter of days.

Jon had already left Dragonstone and was soon to arrive in the city. Despite Brienne’s orders to take shelter in the Crownlands, Jon insisted on fighting. It was Jon who Daenerys was coming for, and he wanted to face the consequences of his actions from several moons ago.

Then there was the matter of…

“Do shut up, Bronn!” Genna barked at the sellsword from down the table as Jaime and Brienne walked in.

A slight repulsion for the man bubbled deep within after Brienne learned what he did to the Lannister brothers up north. Neither had been thrilled to see the man, but Bronn was an opportunist. When the war was over, and Bronn realized who was on the throne, he came crawling back to the Crownlands.

Lollys was now Lady of her House. With her mother’s death, Lollys was proving a weak ruler in a region that needed strong vassals. Jon was doing everything he could for the Crownlands, but Bronn had not been a challenge that Jon expected to encounter.

The sellsword returned to claim his bride and castle. Everyone in the Crownlands knew that Bronn was truly leading as Lollys bent to his will. Loathe as Brienne was to admit it, they needed House Stokeworth now. They were close to King’s Landing and boasted more resources than other holdings nearby.

The evacuation of the city would begin in a week, and Bronn was to lead it. If he did his part without issue, Brienne agreed to pardon his crimes. That was the best offer that the sellsword would get from Brienne after she offered a very Selwyn Tarth style greeting to the man just days earlier.

Bronn leaned back in his chair and chuckled despite the bandage covering his nose. “What? All I’m sayin’, is ya fuckin’ nephew owes me. I should get me own raised tax from the West.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and waved Bronn off dismissively as Genna glared at him.

“I’ll raise something at you just as our Queen did. Do not threaten my House again!”

Bronn raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t threaten no one! I merely offered a suggestion to ya nephew. Just between us boys.”

As those assembled saw Brienne enter, they stood and bowed in greeting. Bronn scrambled to his feet; a panicked look in his face. Taking a menacing step towards Bronn, Brienne narrowed her eyes as Jaime pressed close to her side.

“Are you threatening my goodbrother, Ser Bronn?”

Shaking his head in refute, Bronn clamped his mouth shut. Clearing his throat, Bronn’s brows furrowed and he spoke quietly before them. “If I might say, ya look…”

“Save it, Bronn. We have more important things to discuss.” Brienne moved to her seat as Jaime took his place at the opposite end.

The meeting seemed to drag on for hours as the small council, Bronn, Ned, and Addam, broke their fast together. Brienne listened as Jaime discussed the latest round of preparations for the city’s defense. In addition to outfitting the battlements with more modified scorpions, Jaime had added plans to make their first stand on the seas.

The combined fleets of the Iron Islands, the Reach, and the Stormlands would be brought in to take out as many incoming sellswords as possible. Yara was due to arrive any day now. She had sent word confirming that Quellon Pyke was  _ not _ the envoy she sent, but rather Urek Ironmaker.

House Redwyne would lead the naval defense for the Reach. Jaime lauded their skill on the seas and said that between Lord Paxter’s experience and Yara’s familiarity with her uncle’s approach, few sellswords should make it to the mainland. It was the dragon they worried most about.

When the council ended, Brienne pulled Grey Worm aside, “Lord Commander, may I have a moment?”

At Brienne’s request, Grey Worm remained behind. The room cleared out and Brienne smiled at her friend. “Torgo, I won’t ask you and the Unsullied or Dothraki to fight against Daenerys. I can’t imagine how you all must be feeling right now. I’m sorry about this. We’ll ensure that all are afforded safe shelter during battle.”

Shaking his head, Grey Worm held Brienne’s eyes. “You our Queen. We defend you. Not because you ask, but because we want.”

A warmth spread through Brienne at the words. These men were standing before her facing their former queen; the very woman they followed across the Narrow Sea and mourned. Now, they would see dragonfire taking aim at them for the first time.

Brienne sucked in a deep breath as a sad smile spread across her face. “You’re a good friend, Torgo. Please, do let the men know that if  _ any _ feel reluctant, we will ensure they are safe until this passes.”

Grey Worm straightened to full height. A smile stretched across his face. “Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris.” At the words, Brienne closed the space between them and embraced her friend. It broke her heart that they would face Daenerys, and it was a debt she could never repay.

_ I’ll try to though. I’ll try to keep them safe. I’ll try to keep everyone safe. _


	33. The Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes into labor as the city begins to evacuate.

It was the first day of the evacuations in King’s Landing. Still no word came about Cersei, Quellon, or the rogue Stormlanders. Brienne hated not knowing where they were or when the attack from the east would arrive.

Bran’s escort had been delayed slightly on the journey south. His carriage encountered an issue on the kingsroad and needed repair. Of course, his missive offered little more insight than “we have time”.

Heading into the city with Ned to her right and Jaime to her left, Brienne appraised the chaotic state of the city. Many began leaving at dawn, eager to get to their destination before shelter became unavailable at the designated holdings.

The orphans of the city were Brienne’s greatest concern. It was impossible for the limited staff to move all the children to safety in a timely manner. As such, Selwyn promised to take a contingent of Tarth soldiers to move the children into the Stormlands. They would make their way towards Storm’s End where Gendry finished final preparations to take in refugees.

Given the enemy’s path, Brienne did not think Daenerys would bother with Storm’s End. It was likely that Euron might target Tarth out of spite, but he would sail towards Dragonstone. Jaime believed their men would be too wary after traveling by sea. 

The sellswords would likely need some days to recover and prepare for war before moving towards the mainland. With Euron knowing Dragonstone to be Daenerys’ previous holding, he likely thought it unoccupied.

Brienne began to worry that the fighting would begin as the babe was being born. She wanted to fight for the Eight Kingdoms, but she also realized how improbable that would be while so far along. She was just over eight moons, but Brienne felt like every day was the eleventh moon.

The thought reminded Brienne of the conversation she had with her father the night prior.

_ The night prior _

A knock at the door surprised Brienne. To her left, Jaime lazed on her bed in naught but his smallclothes. Their evenings seemed to end earlier and earlier of late.

Jaime had taken to escorting Brienne back to her room under the guise of ‘fatigue’, which Brienne knew translated to Jaime hoping to get Brienne in fewer layers than he was currently on the bed in.

At the knock, Jaime sat upright quickly. They both stilled as a voice wafted under the door. “Brienne. By the gods, child. It’s not an hour past supper. I don’t care what that boy said, you can’t possibly be  _ that  _ tired. Come, speak to your old man.”

Urging Jaime back into his room, Brienne put on a robe and walked to the door. Her father looked shocked to see her ready for bed.

“Truly? Are you that pathetic? The sun is barely set.”

Brienne huffed and stepped to the side to allow her father entry. “Well I am quite pregnant. I’m not certain if you’ve noticed. Sleep can be… elusive.”

_ Not a lie. My strange marriage keeps me up quite late. _

Selwyn moved inside and appraised the room. “This room is absurd! I feel small in it.”

At the words, Brienne huffed a laugh and offered her father a seat at the table. “Yes. I suppose that will be quite useful when the babe arrives. I can pretend that I still have my own space when the little one starts yelling for me at all hours of the night.”

Selwyn smiled wistfully. “You cried a lot as a babe. Far more than Gal.”

Sitting with a grunt, Selwyn rubbed his knees and appraised her. “How are you?”

“Sore.” Brienne’s brevity elicited a chuckle from her father. 

“Yes, I imagine. I meant emotionally though. When I was last here, you had made quite the defense of your ‘political’ marriage. How are things between you and the boy?”

Brienne’s eyes darted to the closed door which connected to Jaime’s room. Shifting uncomfortably on her chair, Brienne forced a small smile. “Improved, I suppose.”

Selwyn snorted as his large hand rubbed his stubbled chin. “Yes, well he didn’t flee with his sister. I suppose that is an  _ improvement _ .”

The mention of Cersei felt like plunging into an icy river. No matter how much she clawed to the surface, Brienne couldn’t escape the dagger-like cold taking aim at her chest.

Lowering her voice in the event that Jaime was close to the door, Brienne conveyed her deepest concern to her father. It was a concern she feared voicing to anyone else in the Keep.

“I sometimes wonder if it's because Cersei’s babe isn’t his. Perhaps he feels betrayed and is trying to make his second option work. A way to mend a broken heart.”

Brienne felt guilty even voicing her fear. Of course, Jaime had remained true to all the words offered since his return to King’s Landing. There were still doubts rooted in Brienne’s own demons. The nagging voice of Septa Rolle reminding her of what she truly was to the world.

Jaime’s words the other week helped more than she realized. When confronted with the mirror, Brienne strained to see if she could look acceptable from different angles or lighting. Still, she only saw ugliness. She heard the voices of her past tormentors where it concerned her physical attributes.

There was a new voice deep within though. A voice telling Roelle to fuck off. It was Jaime’s voice that made Brienne take pause.

_ Are he and Ned wrong about me, or is the rest of Westeros? _

Selwyn reached over and grabbed Brienne’s hand. “I withheld some opinions from you when I first arrived and met the boy. I was quite angry then. My only living child was dishonored and left in a cruel way. No matter what the boy said, I didn’t want him marrying you after all that. But…”

Selwyn’s eyes narrowed as he glanced towards the balcony. “I realized it then.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at his words. Staring at her father, Brienne questioned him. “Realized what?”

With a deep sigh, Selwyn met Brienne’s eyes. “I listened to him speak with his aunt. He could have said anything and I would have been unmoved. Words are wind of course. It was in his eyes though. The way he spoke of you. The way he despaired at the thought of losing you. I knew his intentions were true then. I almost wished it wasn’t true. It would have been easier to keep hating him for what he did to you. The next day when you spoke of who you thought he loved, I didn’t correct you. I’m sorry. I just… you’re my little girl. You’ve already endured so much heartache and I wanted you to be wooed and treated properly from the beginning. Gods, that boy. He truly loves you, though. I think Ronnet’s face can attest to that.”

Now as Brienne rode into the city, she glanced at Jaime. Her father hadn’t stayed much longer after they spoke of Jaime. There was much to do in the city over the coming days, and Selwyn conceded that taking an early rest was for the best.

They arrived at the distribution center which had been setup to ensure departing families had supplies and food. Brienne moved to dismount her horse, but she was surprised when Jaime’s arms reached up and looped around her hips.

He helped her down and smirked at Ned. “Apologies, Lord Ned. I got to her before I could aid you. I do like to see all ladies helped down from their horses.”

Brienne sighed at the constant japes between the two, but they seemed more at peace with one another now. Once Ned understood Brienne’s feelings for Jaime, he stopped making advances on her. Once Jaime understood Brienne had no romantic interest in anyone else, including Ned, he stopped responding with anger towards the younger lord.

The line to receive aid before moving from the city was long, but Brienne was pleased to see the people getting what they needed before leaving. She helped at the line between Jaime and Ned while making light conversation with the people who passed through.

Her back was screaming as she shifted from foot to foot to alleviate the pressure on her spine. Strong cramps began to take Brienne’s breath away as the pain started in her middle and wrapped around her back. Not to be deterred from ensuring everyone had what they needed, Brienne continued to stand at the line and exchange pleasantries with those coming through.

Then a strong pain gripped her which made Brienne grab the table for purchase. She grimaced as the wave of pain passed. Squatting low, Brienne took a steadying breath

“Brienne!?” Jaime was crouched at her side; his right arm around her. “Are you alright?”

“It’s fine. Just a cramp.”

To her other side, Ned reached down for her arm. “I think you should let us do this. This is too much strain.”

Standing upright and grabbing her side, Brienne shook her head. “I’m fine. Truly.”

Stubborn as she was, Brienne continued to hand out packages to the people. The pain began to intensify and came at regular intervals. It was unlike anything she experienced before, but her waters had not broken so Brienne thought nothing of it.

Leaning against the table as another wave of pain came, it was a woman’s voice that captured her attention.

“Ya grace? I think the babe is comin’.”

Brienne looked left and into the eyes of a young woman with a babe at her hip and young child at her side.

“I’m sorry?” Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly at the woman.

Leaning across the table slightly, the woman smiled. “It usually starts like awful moonblood cramps. Do they start in ya middle? Kind of go round ya and into ya back?”

Brienne nodded as realization slowly dawned on her. “It’s too early. I’m not even eight and half moons.”

The woman shrugged and appraised her belly. “The babe looks quite low. Me second here came a fortnight early. The babe comes when the babe is ready.”

Jaime leaned into Brienne’s ear; his arm at her back. “Let's go back. The men can finish handing things out.”

Hesitant as she was, Brienne shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too early. I’m not ready.”

The woman across the table spoke once more; a smile on her face. “Ya a strong woman, Ya Grace. The best we have. It will be fine. I swear it. Seven blessings.”

As the woman moved down the line, Brienne felt Jaime pulling her backwards. He yelled down the line to Pod and Grey Worm.

“Lord Commander Torgo. Ser Pod. I think we need to go now.”

The pair looked at him strangely; unaware of the Queen’s mounting pain. Pointing to the line, Pod furrowed his brows. “The line…”

“ _ Now _ , Pod.” At Jaime’s tone and facial expression, the two men appraised Brienne. She was bending slightly and gripping Jaime’s hand as another wave of pain took her. It was all the men needed to see to know it was time to move out.

Grey Worm looked around and yelled to the other Queensguard. “Back to the Keep. Ser Addam, you have Gold Cloaks finish.”

Addam’s eyes were wide as he stared at Jaime and Brienne. A wide smile stretched across his face as he yelled to his men.

“Come on boys. Lets tend to the people while our Queen gives them their heir!”

The words caused an excitement in the crowd. As the scene unfolded before them, the people cheered and offered well wishes to the Queen. Brienne cringed at the thought of getting back on a horse as the cramps hit her.

Making their way back to the Keep was excruciating. The pain seemed to roll from one to the next. Brienne knew she was not quite nine moons, but it still seemed too early. She wasn’t prepared for the babe when she had to ensure the people were being evacuated safely.

When they arrived at the Keep, Grey Worm sprinted into the castle to find the maester. The men moved her inside, but the pain caused Brienne to double over once more. Crouching to the floor, Brienne grabbed her belly and held her breath. A pair of large arms lifted her and began to move quickly towards the royal apartments.

The Hound grumbled as Brienne’s startled eyes landed on his face. “Just don’t name the babe Gregor. That’s all I ask for carrying your ass.”

Brienne chuckled at the words as another wave of pain hit. When they neared, Tyton directed them into a smaller room near her chambers.

“Birthing babes is messy business. Let's not sully your bed.”

The maester had the room setup and a young midwife stood at his side. Sansa and Genna ran into the room as the Hound set Brienne down on the bed. If Brienne didn’t know Sandor better, she would swear he had a fond smile on his face as he nodded and left the room quickly.

Jaime had immediately moved to the bed next to her, but Genna barked out at him. “Out, Jaime! Go wait in your room.”

“No.”

The women grumbled at Jaime as Maester Tyton approached the bed. “Your Grace, I regret to inform you, but you can’t birth the babe in breeches and boots. Those will need to come off. We’ll give you a modesty sheet.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the reality of the situation. The babe was coming and she was entirely unprepared to deliver a babe that day.

“Can you not delay it somehow? I need to ensure the people get out and I…”

Another wave of pain tore through Brienne. Gripping her belly, she clenched her jaw and held her breath.

“No, no! You must breathe through it!” Genna moved to Brienne’s side and placed a hand on her arm. Her eyes darted to Jaime. “I said, out! This isn’t your place.”

“My wife is having our babe! I’m staying.”

Sansa and the midwife made quick work of Brienne’s boots. Pushing Brienne to a seated position, Genna removed her doublet and loosened her jerkin. When her breeches and smallclothes were removed and a sheet draped over her lower body, the midwife moved between Brienne’s legs.

“I need to see where ya at, Ya Grace.”

The exam was uncomfortable, and Brienne wanted the ordeal over with. Furrowing her brows in contemplation, the woman turned to the maester. “Not quite halfway. Best get comfy in here.”

**_Comfy?_ ** _ No! Get the babe out  _ **_now_ ** _! _

Hours dragged on with more of the same. Pain tore through Brienne’s body and the women worked to cool her overheating body. Fatigue was setting in as Brienne struggled through the pain. Her body began to tremble as the waves of pain came closer together.

A sudden burst of wetness spilled from Brienne’s legs. At first, Brienne was horrified and thought she pissed herself, but the midwife looked pleased.

“Her waters broke. Gettin’ close. Time for the real pain, ya grace.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. “ _ Real pain!?  _ What the fuck has  _ this  _ been?”

Jaime gripped Brienne’s hand as he pressed close to Brienne’s side. “You’re doing great, Brienne.”

“Shut up, Jaime! This is  _ your  _ fault! I hate you!” Brienne growled at Jaime as another wave of pain gripped her. As his eyes went wide, Brienne felt immediate regret. “ _ I’m sorry.  _ I only hate you a little right now.”

As the pain intensified, Brienne squeezed Jaime’s hand hard. The strength of her grip seemed to grind his bones together. Brienne’s head thrashed from side to side. It was a pain unlike any of the previous waves. With a loud yell, Brienne struggled for breath as her lungs cast out every ounce of air.

Confusion and pain flooded Jaime’s features as he looked to Genna who stood on the other side of the bed. With a knowing smile, she raised a brow.

“I  _ told  _ you to wait next door.”

Looking back to Brienne uncertainly, Jaime spoke quietly. “What can I do?”

“Get the babe  _ out _ ! Gods  _ dammit  _ Jaime!” Brienne writhed in pain as another wave of pain came. It felt like she was being torn in half. Sweat matted Brienne’s hair to her head as Genna dabbed a cool cloth to Brienne’s forehead.

At the foot of the bed, the midwife called back to Tyton. “It’s time. The babe’s head is here.”

Every part of Brienne hurt, and her body was exhausted from enduring hours of pain. The room was starting to spin and Brienne felt ill.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to be sick.”

Tyton moved quickly to Brienne. “None of that now, Brienne! I’ve reset your nose and bones before. I’ll not pretend this is the same, but I’ve watched you fight through pain. You’re strong!”

With the midwife moving to where Jaime sat, she ordered him from the bed. “I’ve to get her leg, m’lord.”

At the woman’s command, Jaime moved from the bed and stood by Sansa. His eyes looked deeply troubled as he looked on at the scene playing out. Things became chaotic quickly and Brienne felt as though she was fighting the dead again. The pain seemed to come from all angles, and she could do little more than flail and scream in response. Genna and the midwife held her legs back as her body shook violently.

Through the chaos, pain, and dizziness, Brienne could hear Tyton’s calm voice. “I need you to push, Brienne.”

With everything she had, Brienne did as he bid. Whatever was happening to her body sent conflicting messages. On the one hand, her body begged her to stop. The pushing felt as though it was tearing her in half. On the other hand, her body  _ had _ to push. Instinct overrode her internal strife and encouraged Brienne to push.

It took several more attempts of pushing before an incredible relief hit Brienne. An abrupt end to the unbearable pressure ended in a babe’s cry. Tyton quickly moved the babe to Brienne’s chest and smiled.

“A girl, your grace.” The midwife began cleaning the babe with a cloth as Brienne held her little girl close.

Everything seemed to slow around her. The room became blurry as Brienne looked to the babe in awe.

_ Alysanne. _

The midwife said something distantly, but Brienne couldn’t hear her. She was lost in all things Alyssane. Her mind repeated the instruction to hold the babe tightly as everything around Brienne began to darken.

Suddenly there was a surge of activity. Voices screamed and shook Brienne, but she could do little more than look at Alyssane. Genna’s hands took the babe and Brienne tried to cry out, but no sound came.

With a weak hand, Brienne reached out for her little girl, but Genna was moving away.

_ Come back. Please. _

Fragments of conversations reached Brienne’s ears as she looked around despairingly.

_ ‘Too much blood.’ ‘Everyone out.’ ‘Get Lord Tarth.’ ‘No! Get him out!’ _

Jaime’s hands were all Brienne registered. He was grabbing her head and screaming mere inches from her face. “Brienne! Stay with me!”

Then he was gone. Strong arms were pulling him backwards towards the door. Brienne glanced to see the panicked expressions of Grey Worm and Pod pulling a frantic Jaime from the room as Sansa moved quickly to shut the door.

“Ya Grace! Ya babe needs ya now! Focus! Listen to my voice!”

A firm hand to Brienne’s face captured her attention. Genna and the midwife were hovering over Brienne's face; their eyes wild and imploring.

It was Tyton’s calm voice that guided her. “Listen to me, Brienne! You need to push with everything you have. Your babe needs you! You have to protect her now!”

_ Protect her. Protect the innocent. Jaime charged me to. _

Doing as she was bid, Brienne summoned every ounce of strength remaining. She pushed to seemingly nowhere. Whether an hour passed or a moment, Brienne was lost. Then another pressure tore through her. It was like a sword to the gut and snapped Brienne out of whatever trance she was in.

Another pressure hit her chest and Brienne realized there was a babe on her once more. Glancing down, Brienne looked on in confusion.

_ That isn’t Alysanne. _

Tyton’s relieved voice reached her ears. “Another girl, your grace. Good girl, Brienne. Breathe. I need you to breathe.”

The room was spinning, and the women worked quickly. An incredible pressure on her belly caught Brienne’s attention.

Glancing over the second babe’s body as she held the little one loosely, Brienne saw the midwife leaning on her belly. Tyton spoke calmly as he worked between her legs.

“Thank the Gods. Here it comes. That should stop the bleeding now.” Another pressure left Brienne’s weary body. Tyton gave instructions to the midwife for what he needed from his office.

The midwife ran from the room as Tyton worked with cloth to stem the bleeding. He appeared to be stitching her up as he dabbed at the blood. It was then that Brienne saw how much blood there was. It looked like a battlefield.

“Lady Sansa, please have the kitchen staff send some bread up immediately. We need to get something in her belly or the medicines I’m to give her will make her feel green.”

As with the midwife, Sansa moved quickly from the room.

Brienne watched Tyton through heavy eyelids. There was a mix of relief and sadness in his eyes. Glancing up at her, Tyton nodded.

“I’ll not lose you this way too. You’ll be alright.”

_ My mother. This is how my mother died. _

The midwife returned with an armful of the requested medicines and supplies. Tyton worked to prepare different concoctions. One was given to Brienne to consume and the other was used near her stitches.

Sansa returned with some bread and a cup. “The baker recommended juice. She said it helped her with the dizziness after birth.”

Tyton chuckled and nodded his head towards Brienne. “Everyone’s a midwife these days. Go on then. Thank you, Lady Sansa.”

Brienne’s eyes moved to Genna and the midwife. They were tending the babes in the corner and wrapping them in swaddling. Brienne looked to the girls and smiled weakly.

_ Two babes. I had not thought of a second name. _

Brienne considered the second babe. She recalled the pain with which Jaime fretted at not having a child to claim. She recalled their conversations at Winterfell when he spoke fondly of his mother. From what Genna had shared some moons ago, Joanna was a kind woman. She loved deeply and everyone at the Rock loved her. 

Genna had said a part of Jaime never quite recovered after losing his mother. It seemed clear to Brienne what the second babe should be named. Each babe to be named after the mothers they lost; both lost to the birthing bed.

“No.” Brienne’s voice was but a whisper as she looked to the babe. At her cry, all eyes turned to her.

“That one needs the Lannister swaddle I gave Jaime. Little Joanna won’t like Tarth blue. She’s a lioness.” Genna smiled with tears in her eyes. Moving towards Brienne, she smiled through the tears.

“Where is it then?”

Brienne had seen it in Jaime’s room the other day. He had been keeping it under his pillow. After telling her where it was, Sansa spoke as her hand squeezed Brienne’s arm.

“I’ll get it.”

She returned only moments later. They rewrapped Joanna in the crimson swaddle. Brienne was weak and fading. The women tried to prop her upright so Brienne could see the babes as they held them to her.

The midwife spoke in hushed tones with Tyton as the maester finished tidying up the soiled linens and covering Brienne with a blanket.

He looked to Brienne and spoke softly. “I’ll get Ser Jaime. They brought him to the study so you wouldn’t hear him across the hall.”

The image of Jaime clawing to get back to her came to the forefront of Brienne’s mind. It wasn’t long after Tyton left that Jaime crashed through the door. He looked panicked and ran to the bed.

“Brienne! Gods! You’re alright.”

His body pressed against her chest. I was both a relief and suffocating as Brienne struggled to keep her eyes open. It struck her that she hadn’t felt so fatigued and ill at any other point in life; even after the dead fell. Jaime’s hand reached for her face as his forehead pressed close.

“I thought you were going to die. You were so pale.” Jaime’s eyes looked pained as he stared into Brienne’s. A tear-filled laugh pushed past his lips. “We have a girl.”

“Yes, we have girls.”

Jaime snorted. “Yes, you looked quite faint. Seeing double I suppose.”

“No, there are two.” Brienne’s voice was as weak as she felt. Her arm was limp, but she managed to raise it and point over his shoulder. At the words, Jaime’s brows furrowed. His aunt and Sansa each held a babe.

Jaime mumbled in response; his voice barely audible. “Two… twins…  _ oh Gods _ .”

Sansa moved to his side. “This little one was born first.”

“Alysanne. That should be her name.” At Brienne’s words, Jaime’s head snapped to her. His eyes were filled with tears and he nodded.

“Yes. Whatever you want.”

Then Genna moved close. When Jaime observed the swaddle that the babe was wrapped in, he stiffened. His eyes went wide, and he looked to Brienne. A question danced on the tip of his tongue as he searched Brienne’s eyes. Brienne nodded at the babe and offered a weak smile.

“Joanna. That should be her name.” A stray tear fell from each of Jaime’s eyes as he looked at her.

“You don’t have to.”

Brienne looked at the small bundle in Genna’s arms. “One for each of our mothers.”

As Brienne’s eyes moved back to Jaime, he crashed into her. His arms wrapped tightly around her body. With his face buried in Brienne’s neck, Jaime whispered into her ear.

“Thank you. They’re perfect.”

Genna’s voice filled the room and captured Jaime’s attention as he sat upright. “Come on then. Hold one of your girls.”

Jaime had never looked so happy as he did in that moment. Reaching for the babe in Genna’s arms, he smiled widely at the little girl. Genna’s hands wiped the tears from Jaime’s cheek before running through his hair. She smiled as she looked between them.

“Your wife is incredible. I think she lost my weight in blood.”

Jaime grimaced before raising his eyes from Joanna to Brienne. A fond smile spread across his tear-stained face. “I  _ know  _ she’s incredible. She’s the Warrior and the Maiden turned Mother.”

Over the next hour, a string of visitors entered the room. Brienne hardly remembered the visits and longed for little more than sleep. She willed herself awake for the most important visitors though; Selwyn, Pod, Grey Worm, Arya, and the Hound.

Selwyn was most concerned with Brienne. When he heard that Brienne birthed twin girls and was faint, he feared the worst. Ghosts shadowed his face when he entered and reached for Brienne. It wasn’t until nearly suffocating Brienne under his weight, that Selwyn looked to the babes.

Grey Worm and Pod came in just after Selwyn. They each held one of the girls and rocked them in their arms. Both men looked smitten and Brienne was convinced they would each have a squire in ten years’ time.

Arya and the Hound visited after. When the Hound wasn’t on duty, he and Arya were usually joined at the hip. Their feigned distaste for one another was easier to see through than Tyrion’s recent claim of being done with wine.

Arya’s nose crinkled in distaste. “I think this one just shit. Something is happening in her nappy.”

A smirk stretched across Sandor’s face as he looked to Arya. “ _ Typical _ . You scare the shit out of everyone.”

As his eyes moved back to Joanna in his arms, the Hound smiled. Brienne nearly fainted at the sight, but it was a true smile.

When at last the stream of visitors ended, Brienne sagged against the pillows propping her upright. Jaime held Alysanne as Joanna slept between them. His face had never looked more youthful as he glanced between the girls in delight.

“They’re perfect, Brienne. Go on. Rest. I’ll watch over all of you. I’ll always watch over my girls.”


	34. The Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genna spends time with her nieces and nephews and has a much needed conversation with Brienne.

A wide smile stretched across Genna’s face as she appraised little Jeyne. The babe was very alert at nearly two moons old. Sansa and Tyrion had been doing a fine job with the young babe and adapted well to their new role fostering the little girl. They worked as a team and had hired a wet nurse and Septa to help with the babe.

It had been three weeks since Brienne birthed the twin girls. For their part, Jaime and Brienne were not faring as well. Genna planned to pay the Queen a visit after finishing her meal with Sansa, Tyrion, and Arya.

Rocking the babe to sleep in her arms, Genna looked to her nephew. “We’ll need to discuss this little one’s inheritance. Something tells me that troublesome brother of yours and our Queen will be supplying more than two heirs to the kingdoms.”

Arya snorted and raised a knowing brow at Sansa and Tyrion. Everyone had observed the improved relationship between Jaime and Brienne since Cersei’s escape. It seemed only a matter of time before the pair broke down the final wall that seemed to be holding them back.

Feigning ignorance, Tyrion crossed his arms and smirked at Genna. “Whatever do you mean? Theirs is merely a  _ political marriage _ , and now the kingdoms have their heir  _ and _ a spare. I do believe Tarth will be claiming little Joanna though.”

Waving him off, Genna looked to Sansa. “Come now, Lady Hand, I know that mind of yours has been working overtime since this babe came out with kraken features. As for the Queen and her Consort, the maids have not had to change our Consort’s bed linens for two moon turns now.”

A pleased expression spread across Sansa’s face as her eyes darted to Arya. “My sources have noted the same. If they manage not to kill each other over the next few moon turns, I do believe your assessment is correct. As for Jeyne, I’ve considered the matter.”

Genna leaned forward curiously; her brow arched in question. Casting a sideways glance at Tyrion, Sansa continued.

“Brienne is going to legitimize the babe as a Greyjoy. Lady Yara plans to take advantage of the Queen’s new law allowing individuals to wed anyone of their choosing, but in doing so, she’ll need to name an heir since it's unlikely she’ll carry her own babe.”

It had been the one law that the older lords and ladies struggled the most with, but Brienne was determined to enact. Brienne would now allow for marriages between two men or between two women. Supporting laws were put into place to ensure the couple’s rights were on equal ground with marriages between men and women. 

Yara and Dorne had celebrated the change. The more  _ traditional _ kingdoms appeared uncertain, but already the Crown was fielding requests from couples seeking to take advantage of the new law. Of course, Septons refused the unions. The allowance for freedom in marriage stood in stark contrast to the faith of the seven, but Brienne hardly cared.

_ ‘If a sovereign can legitimize a babe born out of wedlock, a sovereign should be able to legitimize a marriage between lovers. I’ll ensure the weddings are recorded if the Septons refuse to accommodate love in their faith.’ _

The decision caused a strain between the Crown and the faith. Efforts had begun to treat with representatives of the faith, but Brienne’s time had been limited on account of war preparations and recovering from birthing twins.

In the meantime, she afforded the liege lords and ladies the right to officiate the marriages within their kingdoms.

Genna smirked at the words and looked to Jeyne. “Apologies for the downgrade, child. You’ll have to be a Greyjoy instead of a Lannister. I feel your pain. This cruel world made me a Frey.”

Sansa’s voice was uneasy as she spoke. “Yes, about that. We need Lord Emmon to take the Twins. With our uncle at Riverrun with Lady Roslin Frey, there is no one left to rule the Twins. It seems your husband is the only Frey left.”

A wolfish smile stretched across Arya’s face. She raised a challenging brow at Genna. “I suppose it is  _ mine  _ by conquest, but I’ll relinquish it to your husband as a peace offering for the unfortunate dinner party I last hosted.  _ My apologies. _ ”

_ Gods. There is something  _ **_wrong_ ** _ with this girl. _

With an unimpressed glare, Genna shook her head. “I care little what Emmon does. We lost two of our boys in the war, but we have another two in need of inheritance. One of them can inherit from Emmon.”

Genna sighed and looked back to Jeyne. “Will Yara take this little one back to the Iron Islands then? After the war of course.”

Arya snorted. “She has as much interest in changing nappies as me. When Brienne offered to legitimize Jeyne as a Greyjoy, Yara’s only ask was the babe be kept as a ward until Jeyne can wipe her own ass.”

“Oh Gods.” Genna grumbled as the younger three chuckled.

Tyrion reached for Sansa’s hand and smiled warmly. “We don’t mind. It gives us time to ensure this babe is raised under proper influence. She’ll be close to her cousins too. All three of them.”

Genna’s eyes went wide as she glanced between Sansa and Tyrion. “What’s this now? Is there to be another Lannister?”

Sansa tilted her chin and smirked. “There’s to be another  _ Stark _ . We’ll be taking a cue from our Queen. A Tarth will sit on the throne and a Stark will rule at Winterfell.”

Genna grumbled slightly. It was the one thing she had been disheartened by. While Jaime claimed the girls, they were Tarth children. In a way, Genna understood. The kingdoms endured Cersei for years and despite Genna’s insistence that the Baratheons be afforded blame for the madness, everyone knew that Cersei was a Lannister and driven by Lannister teachings.

Further, Genna knew her brother did little to foster love for the Lannister name despite ensuring the House was respected and feared.

“Speaking of our Tarth heirs, I’m to visit with Brienne. Our Queen and consort were at it again last night.” 

The mood shifted slightly at the mention. While great improvement had been made in Jaime’s and Brienne’s marriage, they were struggling with parenthood. The stress of newborns wore heavy on them, and Brienne refused a Septa for the girls. Further, they were bickering over Brienne’s involvement in the war to come.

Jaime wanted Brienne to be kept away from the fighting and protected by the Queensguard. Brienne wanted to fight with the armies and defend her people. It was the only time in her short reign that the entire small council disagreed with Brienne. Surprisingly, Grey Worm had been the strongest opposition to Brienne’s participation in the war.

_ ‘You a great warrior, but you have babes now. They need you. You can’t fight Drogon. I see great warriors fall to flames.’ _

Brienne had insisted that she could fight. She had renewed her training the moment Maester Tyton approved her for  _ light _ activity. When she pushed back in the council, Grey Worm only huffed.

_ ‘And what you do? You charge at dragon like idiot husband?’ _

Grey Worm’s words had sent a chill down Genna’s spine. She heard tales from the men that Jaime charged the beast on the goldroad. It alarmed her that Jaime could think so little of his own wellbeing when it came to matters of war. If she could, Genna would lock them both away until the entire ordeal had passed.

Now as Genna wandered the halls towards the royal apartments, she could hear Jaime’s and Brienne’s bickering voices drifting down the hallway. Their words were matched only by the wails of their babes.

On approach, Pod and Ser Balon looked to her with wary expressions. It was young Pod who spoke first. “Good luck, Lady Genna. I believe your nephew is one comment away from getting chucked over the balcony.”

Without knocking, Genna entered the room. There was no use requesting entry when the pair inside would never hear it over the babes and their own heated words.

When she entered, she observed the couple in question. Brienne was in bed nursing one of the babes while Jaime was desperately trying to calm another. They bickered over the same topic they had everyday since Brienne renewed training. The war to come.

“Ah the happy family. Good to see you’re just as I left you yesterday.”

Both looked to Genna at the words. They appeared to have spent the night in the Seven Hells taking orders from Aerys himself. Their hair was disheveled and eyes heavy from lack of sleep. Both appeared paler than usual and their attire reflected the restlessness they found at night.

Since the twins’ birth, they found little sleep. It was likely as wearing on them as the constant bickering over the war to come. For Genna, it was the first thing she hoped to sort out that day.

When both looked down to the babe in their arms, Genna stepped into the room and spoke calmly to Jaime. “Give me the babe, Jaime. I wish to speak with my goodniece.”

Jaime sighed and handed the babe in his arms to Genna. Looking down at the little one, Genna smiled as she noted it was Alysanne in her arms.

“Go take a nap, Jaime. You look like shit.”

With a huff of annoyance, Jaime straightened before Genna. “I don’t need to…”

“Then go do  _ something _ ! You’re terribly annoying.”

At Genna’s words, Brienne snorted and muttered her agreement on that matter. The words seemed to raise Jaime’s ire, but he bit his tongue. Jaime walked towards the bed and leaned down to whisper into Brienne’s ear. Whatever he said caused the tension to leave her shoulders. She nodded slightly as Jaime kissed her temple and left the room without another word.

It troubled Genna to see how much they loved each other, but something still held them back. Jaime had fretted over Brienne’s feelings for him. When Genna took lunch with him two days prior, he shared that Brienne had yet to offer words of love.

Dragging a seat towards the bed, Genna rubbed soothing circles into Alysanne’s back which worked wonders to quiet the babe. Brienne’s eyes went wide at the sight. A soft snort was all Genna allowed herself so as not to disturb the quieting babe.

“I’m old and soft. She prefers to lay on my chest than Jaime’s. That and I’m less tense. Babes can sense the tension, Brienne.”

Brienne frowned at the words and looked down to Joanna who was beginning to drift to sleep at her breast.

“You and Jaime can’t do this on your own. One child is life changing and exhausting. Two without aid and you’ll drown. You’re ruling eight kingdoms and your husband is preparing for a war. You need a proper Septa for these girls.”

“No Septas.”

Brienne’s curt reply flummoxed Genna. Shifting the chair closer, Genna considered Brienne. It occurred to Genna that Brienne either refused a Septa due to possessiveness over the babes, or a poor experience with her own. Knowing Brienne for several moons, Genna assumed the latter.

“Tell me of your Septa. I wish to understand the woman’s role in your life.”

The request caught Brienne by surprise. Her face fell and she shook her head in refute. “It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is. Was she with you during the entirety of your childhood?”

With a nod of confirmation, Brienne kept her eyes on Joanna. Alysanne’s breathing fell into a rhythm on Genna’s shoulder as the older lady continued to rub soothing circles into the babe’s back.

“When did your mother die?”

Brienne glanced at Genna through her lashes. Her voice was low as she responded. “I was three. I don’t much remember her. I just remember the bloodied linens and the attendants screaming for my father.”

Genna sucked in a sharp breath. The tale had been shared by Selwyn when Brienne’s and Jaime’s twins were born. It was an eerily reminiscent scene of his wife’s passing. “So, your Septa took on the role of mother. I assume that your father never remarried.”

Brienne huffed a bitter laugh. “He was too busy managing Tarth, though he found time to take a new whore to court every year.”

Sighing heavily, Genna went back to her original question. “Tell me of the Septa. What was her name? How did she treat you?”

Brienne grimaced and looked away. “Septa Roelle. She treated me as most did, though I don’t know that she hated me from the start. She tried to work with me, but I disappointed her at every turn. I couldn’t curtsey or sew. I fumbled through greetings and conversation. I donned breeches instead of dresses. I just… failed at everything.”

_ Gods this child is worse off than Jaime. _

“Did I ever tell you that when Jaime and Cersei were little, they looked so much alike, that they would trade places for the day. Like most things, it was Cersei’s idea. She didn’t want to sew all day while her brother got to train with the sword. So being Cersei, she made him wear her dress while she donned his breeches. He can probably sew better than most noblewomen.”

Genna chuckled at the memory, but then her smile faded. “Well… when he had his right hand.”

Brienne smiled softly. “He never mentioned that. He doesn’t mention any stories involving Cersei. It’s like he wants to keep it from me. Like a secret he’s afraid of revealing; as though I’ll find out that he still loves her.”

With a heavy sigh, Genna shook her head. “That isn’t it. I imagine he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable by mentioning her. In fact, if he  _ did _ still love her, he  _ would _ talk about her. When you first met Jaime and you both considered each other enemies, did he talk about Cersei then?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the question. She nodded slowly. “Yes. Quite openly. It surprised me.”

Genna chuckled. “Well by that point, everyone knew so why not go for it, I suppose. What did he say of her?”

“He bragged to Lady Catelyn of his fidelity to Cersei. Once we left camp, he mentioned her a few times too. When he was with fever, he called out for her. It was Cersei that drove him to live and return home. Even when we were brought to Harrenhal, he asked after her.”

With a knowing nod, Genna smiled. “And when did he stop talking about her so fondly, and lovingly?”

Brienne’s face scrunched in consideration. With a slight shrug, she met Genna’s eyes. “I don’t recall actually. I don’t recall him speaking of Cersei again until… he left me at Winterfell.”

_ Just as I thought. He hasn’t loved Cersei since the Riverlands. _

“Jaime loves deeply and openly. He tries to mask his feelings, but his eyes are louder than his voice could ever be. He looks at you with more love and fondness than he ever did at Cersei. He stopped talking about her, because it was another who stole away with his heart. Quite honestly, I’m sick of hearing about you from Jaime… no offense. Even Addam endured tales of you before abandoning Cersei to head north. It was how Addam came to tell me of you when we traveled here some moons ago.”

Something flashed in Brienne’s eyes that Genna couldn’t read. Pressing further, Genna tried to understand what held Brienne back from expressing her love for Jaime.

“Tell me the truth. Do you think he still loves Cersei?”

Brienne considered the question. “Before Cersei escaped, yes. Since then, I think he is brokenhearted. I’m not certain what he thinks of her now.”

Genna studied Brienne. The queen’s face was filled with sorrow that Genna struggled to pinpoint the root cause of.

“Jaime did love Cersei for quite a long time. I tried to keep them separated when young, but it proved impossible. I don’t believe Cersei ever truly loved Jaime so much as she loved the  _ idea _ of him; of what she could have been had she been born with a cock. Cersei was my brother’s truest child. Jaime endured Cersei’s emotional abuse for most of his life. He was so desperate for warmth, love, and acceptance after his mother died. I tried to fill that void, but I had my own husband and children to attend to. I had my own responsibilities to House Lannister on top of my brother’s motherless children. I worried that Cersei would be the death of Jaime, but he finally came to realize the truth of it. What he had with Cersei was never true love. It is you that helped him see that.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. Looking to Genna, her eyes were filled with sadness. “I feel like the scraps he was left with. If Cersei didn’t betray him, he would be with her. I’m a poor second choice.”

Genna’s heart broke at Brienne’s admission. She had the answer she needed to better understand Brienne, and why she guarded her heart from Jaime. No one would allow such vulnerability if they believed themselves unloved or second best.

“He hurt you when he left. I can see that clearly. If you can’t forgive him for leaving, you’ll never be able to accept what you truly feel for him. Neither of you will be fully satisfied in this marriage. Cordial smiles during the day and nighttime fucks aren’t going to be enough.”

Brienne’s face reddened at the words. A knowing smirk tugged at Genna’s lips as she raised a brow. “What? You think the entire Keep thinks you’re just cuddling in here? The first excuse was for your aching back which I can believe started out innocently enough. Now what’s the excuse? Helping with the babes at night? His room has a connecting door, child! He could hear the babes and come right in. I know you’re still recovering from birth and can’t do  _ everything _ , but that’s what hands and mouths are for.”

At Genna’s crass words, Brienne reeled back and covered her mouth. Her rapidly reddening cheeks gave away the game that Genna knew her nephew and goodniece were playing. With a light chuckle, Genna continued.

“You both love each other, and Jaime would do anything for you. He would pick you before Cersei in any lifetime. I can see it.” Taking a pause, Genna’s tone became more serious.

“Now this Septa of yours, did you try to do as she asked, or where you an obstinate child? I truly can’t picture you putting up a stink.”

Brienne huffed in annoyance. “I tried to please her. Truly, I did. I tried to sew and I damn near took my fingers off in the process. I’m still awful at it. Well, you saw the swaddle I made. Embarrassing.”

Genna chuckled. “Jaime quite loves it. The boy slept with it until the babe was born. That’s all that matters.”

“I tried to do other things too. I tried to keep my mouth shut when she said that I would only cause embarrassment to Tarth and my father. I tried to curtsey, even if I only ended up falling on my face. I tried to wear dresses, but as she said, I looked even uglier than usual. That was the worst part. I never wanted to look like a boy, but I was cursed with the body of a man and the face of a beast.”

Genna cringed at the words. Shaking her head, she met Brienne’s eyes. “It’s awful to think such things of yourself. Did she speak to you with such words?”

“She was only trying to prepare me for what I would face in the world. She wasn’t wrong and in a way I appreciate her lessons. I was mocked for my appearance, awkwardness, and mannish tendencies.”

Rage stirred in Genna as she imagined what Brienne had dealt with. “So she abused you then.”

“No! She never once struck me.” Brienne’s eyes were wide as she met Genna’s eyes.

“Brienne, you don’t need to strike someone to abuse them. Cersei’s abuse of Jaime was significantly more emotional than physical. I can assure you of that. It seems to me that this Septa of yours abused you. She mocked you. Belittled you. Made you feel worthless. Am I correct?”

Brienne nodded in affirmation and it broke Genna’s heart. She shook her head and huffed. “You and Jaime have far more in common than you should. You both have endured severe abuse, but you don’t even realize it. You both defend your abusers. You defend Roelle as merely doing her job to prepare you. Jaime always defended Cersei claiming she needed protection and she was merely responding to cruelties of the world forced upon her sex.”

Genna studied Brienne for a moment before continuing. “Jaime adored his mother. Joanna always called Jaime her little protector. She asked him to protect his sister and, while she was pregnant, his forthcoming sibling. Well, Jaime took the request to an extreme. He sees it now. He sees Cersei for what she is. She’s a vile, hateful woman. He regrets his role in enabling her. I look forward to her demise.”

Brienne looked to Genna in shock. “She’s your niece. Surely you can’t mean that.”

“Yes, she’s my niece, that much I can’t change. That doesn’t mean she is a good person who should be allowed to spread her madness. When she blew up the sept, she killed my brother, Kevan, and my nephew, Lancel. She killed Lannister bannerman who were assembled for the trial. I forgave Tyrion for killing Tywin because my brother tormented that boy. Tywin hated Tyrion from the day he entered the world less than, in his eyes, perfect. Tywin hated anything he deemed imperfect and Cersei is no different than him. She felt Jeyne imperfect and cast aside the babe even though there is nothing wrong with her. Maester Tyton told me as much. Cersei killed Kevan and Lancel for nothing more than power and the need to remove perceived threats. Unlike Tyrion, she did not act in self-defense. She acted in madness and cruelty. I’ve heard other tales of what Cersei did as queen, and it disgusts me. I’ll never forgive her, and neither will Jaime.”

Genna moved to the edge of the bed and grabbed Brienne’s chin. “You and Jaime are good people. The pair of you are protectors. Knights of the realm. You can and you are making a difference in this world. You’ve both endured much hurt in your lives though. Don’t judge all Septas by the cruelties of one. I’ve known shit maesters, but your maester is a fine man. Imagine not allowing a maester to treat you if you had a bad experience with Maester Tyton on Tarth.”

The words seemed to resonate with Brienne. Taking a chance, Genna tried once more. “Allow me to bring in a Septa who I know and trust. She can shadow you and help with the twins. If you like her, we can keep her on and she can take on more responsibility. Please. You and Jaime can’t do it all. You need rest and reprieve. You need time to find your way back to one another.”

With a slow nod, Brienne conceded and Genna felt a victorious smile stretch across her lips. “Good! Now about this war. You are our Queen and we need you alive.”

Brienne began to protest, but Genna put up a finger. “Compromise with Jaime. Maybe don’t make a show of training in front of the entire court. Maybe participate in the war, but not on the frontlines. Consider a compromise.”


	35. The Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get some alone time, but all is not well when Jaime wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW content ahead

Jaime moved slowly down the hallway towards his room. It had been a long day in war council. They had assembled all military commanders, the Queensguard not on duty, and the Gold Cloak commanders to review the final plans for battle. Bran had arrived three weeks ago and began participating in the sessions.

He had a plan for dealing with Drogon, though it seemed risky. The young man would try to warg into the dragon and control it until the archers manning the scorpions could aim true. It seemed a fair approach, but Bran had never tried to warg into a dragon before; only ravens, wolves, and a simple-minded man named Hodor.

One last minute change that Jaime made was regarding the placement of scorpions. From tales of the battle between the mad queens, Drogon took aim at the scorpions atop the battlements. The dragon was intelligent; more so than they gave the beast credit for. He had after all brought Daenerys to a red priestess. It occurred to Jaime that placing all scorpions in the open would be foolish.

Instead, Jaime had one-third of the scorpions placed in concealed areas. Hidden garrisons would man the weapons and take aim at the dragon. Of course, this meant that if Bran was able to warg into the dragon, he had to be considerate of those scorpions. Bran was uncertain what would happen if the dragon died while he was still controlling his host.

As Jaime walked back to his chambers, he rubbed his eyes. The twins were five weeks old and still struggling to find sleep at night. At his aunt’s insistence, Brienne relented on the matter of a Septa. 

The Septa who Genna recommended had served at the Rock for some years, and she was now serving a distant cousin’s children. It would take a few more days until the septa arrived, but Jaime was excited for the aid. At night, Jaime often slid into Brienne’s bed and helped when the babes awoke. It proved draining, and they both desperately needed sleep.

Jaime entered his room to remove his sword and outer layers. He moved quietly; afraid any loud movement from his room may disturb the girls next door. Then he heard Brienne and his heart faltered.

Brienne was singing quietly to one of the babes.  _ Jenny of Oldstones. _ When Jaime heard Pod sing at Winterfell, he thought the boy was talented. Hearing Brienne sing it was an altogether different experience. Jaime placed down his sword and discarded his jerkin before moving towards the door.

Having served in the Kingsguard for much of his life, Jaime felt immune to the voices of those seeking to entertain the crown. He could recognize the beauty in the singer’s voice, but nothing impressed him so much as to take pause. Brienne’s voice took his breath away. The pitch of her voice was an otherworldly beauty.

Jaime’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The flickering fire illuminated the space and framed Brienne’s body. She was standing by the cradles and rocking one of the girls in her arms. While looking at their daughter, Brienne sang absently as though the effort inconsequential; more a passing murmuring to lull the babe to sleep. To Jaime, it was anything but.

Holding back in the shadows, Jaime listened to her. It was like falling into a trance from which there was no awaking. A fond smile spread across his face as he watched Brienne with the babe.

_ She’s been holding out on me. _

Moving slowly into the room so as not to disturb the pair, Jaime approached from Brienne’s back. His arms slowly moved around Brienne and the babe to ensure he didn’t startle them.

Brienne stiffened and immediately stopped singing. She scolded him with a whisper; her head turning slightly to her right. “Gods. You scared me.”

“Don’t stop singing. That was beautiful.”

Even in the dim lighting, Jaime could see Brienne blush. “I don’t sing. Pod is quite good. I’m certain he’ll sing to you if you ask nicely.”

With Joanna now asleep in her arms, Brienne slowly lowered the babe into the crib. Jaime spun Brienne by the hips and pressed a deep kiss to her lips. He was amazed at how quickly her body was recovering from pregnancy and childbirth. Much to his chagrin, Jaime imagined it was from her training.

They had continued to bicker over Brienne’s participation in the war. While Brienne had cut back on her training after speaking with Genna, Jaime still struggled to convince her to stay out of the war to come. She offered to take a position at the rear with the commanders, but Jaime had scoffed.

_ ‘What is the rear line to a dragon when it cuts through the flank from all angles?’ _

Now as Jamie held Brienne in his arms, he felt his cock respond. Deepening the kiss, Jaime’s tongue caressed Brienne’s. The thirst he felt for Brienne seemed unquenchable. During her recovery period, there had been limited touch and Jaime thought it the worst form of torture.

Breaking the kiss, Brienne looked to the babes. “I just got them down. Don’t wake them.”

A wicked smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. “Lets play a game and see who can keep quiet the longest.”

At his words, Brienne narrowed her eyes. “We are not doing  _ that _ in here with the babes sleeping.”

Jaime feigned offense and nodded in mock agreement. “Of course not. That would be inappropriate.”

Grabbing Brienne’s hand, Jaime tugged her into his room. Before Brienne could protest, he tackled her to the bed and began trailing kisses down her neck. The sight of her milk-engorged breasts made Jaime groan in approval. His cock hardened and twitched against her body.

Wearing only her nightshift, Brienne’s breasts spilled over the edges. Jaime made quick work of the offending garments and took her right breast in mouth. His tongue pressed warm against her hardened nipple before his lips closed around it and sucked. Brienne arched into his touch. A whimper pushed past her lips as Jaime feasted on her.

Jaime’s cock felt as though it might burst through his breeches from want. Moving to take her left nipple in mouth, Jaime’s fingers rolled over her right nipple. Small droplets of milk spilled under his touch and Jaime began to grind against Brienne’s warm core. Her hands reached down to untie Jaime’s breeches and push the clothing from his hips.

Without hesitating, Jaime pushed into Brienne’s warm folds. It was an instant relief after weeks of wandering hands and Brienne’s lips around his cock.

“Are you alright?” Jaime searched Brienne’s eyes for any sign of discomfort. Despite a small wince, she nodded and pulled Jaime closer with her heels. The rhythm started slow, but soon worked into a frenzy. Jaime couldn’t get enough of Brienne as he pounded into her.

Then Brienne’s legs hooked around him, flipping them over so that she sat astride him. A loud moan pushed past Jaime’s lips. It was his favorite position. He loved watching Brienne ride him to her pleasure.

_ I’d be honored to serve under your command indeed. _

Brienne’s hands splayed across Jaime’s chest as she moved up and down his cock. Reaching up with his left hand, Jaime pawed at Brienne’s breast and pinched her nipple between his thumb and finger. Brienne arched her back and quickened her movements. It wasn’t long before her walls were tightening in pleasure and her body began to tremble. The feel of her coming undone nearly made Jaime spill, but he wanted to prolong the coupling.

Surging upright, Jaime captured Brienne’s lips with his. He stilled her movements on his cock before encouraging her to all fours. Jaime could better control his pace and he wanted Brienne to come undone again. Thrusting back into her, Jaime began to move slowly. His left hand reached around to apply pressure against her nub.

Brienne squeezed her legs together and added pressure against Jaime’s cock. He gritted his teeth and willed his body not to spill until Brienne was close again. Moving slower, Jaime rubbed at her nub desperately. Brienne’s body began to tense and her breathing labored. Knowing she was close, Jaime began to move faster inside her once more. With each thrust, he tried to bury himself deeper.

Brienne moaned as Jaime hit a spot deep within that sent her spiraling. As her walls began to contract, Jaime sheathed himself fully. He spilled deep within and pumped lightly, enjoying the feel of her walls squeezing his seed from him.

When they each sagged to the bed, Jaime rolled Brienne to her back. As much as Jaime enjoyed making love to Brienne, he lived for holding her afterwards. The feeling of her heart beating wildly against his head made Jaime smile. He wanted more than anything to crawl back atop her and take her again.

Brienne’s nipples were hard and leaking slightly as she lay panting. Looking down the length of her body, Jaime marveled at how beautiful she was. The firelight in his room danced on her body. Sliding over Brienne’s body, Jaime kissed her deeply. He would stay awake all night for his cock to recover if she let him.

Exploring Brienne’s body with his fingers and mouth, Jaime moved between her legs. Their combined fluids glistened on her folds as he took her nub in mouth.

“Gods. You mean to kill me.” Brienne moaned as her hand reached for his hair. He sucked and nibbled as Brienne writhed in pleasure underneath him. It wasn’t long before Jaime’s cock began to respond.

Moving up her body, Jaime pushed inside Brienne’s folds. Unlike the first coupling, Jaime rocked them slowly. Jaime didn’t want the night to end, but he knew it was only a matter of time until one of the girls woke up.

When Jaime spilled a second time, he came with Brienne’s name on his lips. It was a desperate, needy cry for her. The last thing Jaime remembered was falling asleep with their bodies still joined.

Loud cries awoke Jaime some time later. Sitting upright in bed, he rubbed his forehead and blinked back the vestiges of sleep. Jaime’s breeches and smallclothes lay pooled on the floor where they were discarded earlier that night.

Moving from the bed, Jaime pulled on his clothing and shuffled into the room to help Brienne with the babes. He yawned loudly and scratched his stubbled chin. Looking around the room, Jaime didn’t see Brienne. He moved to the cradles and picked up Alysanne who appeared the more agitated of the two girls.

Glancing around the room, Jaime called out in confusion. “Brienne?”

_ Gods. Am I so tired that I failed to see her on the bed next to me? _

Jaime checked his chambers, but the bed was empty as was the room. A deep unease began to settle in Jaime’s core.

_ Maybe she went for water or food? _

Stepping into the hallway, Jaime’s entire world seemed to stop when he saw Ser Boros and the Hound standing against the wall.

“Why are you not with the Queen?”

The men looked at Jaime strangely. With a snort, the Hound shook his head. “I don’t need to see your golden ass on her sheets. Surely you can handle your wife when in your chambers.”

“She’s not in here. She had to have…”

_ Oh fuck. The balcony. _

Jaime paled and moved back inside. Boros and Sandor were fast at his back and looking frantically around the room. Moving to the balcony, Jaime strained to listen for any movement in the yards.

Turning to Boros and Sandor, Jaime’s eyes went wide. “Call the Gold Cloaks. She’s missing.”

A flurry of activity ignited around the Keep. Genna had Jeyne’s wet nurse help with the twins. Because Brienne had to feed two babes, they had called in a second wet nurse to help weeks ago; a young woman named Kora. Genna fretted they would need to find a third wet nurse for the three babes if Brienne didn’t turn up soon.

Tearing through the castle, Jaime sought out Bran. If anyone knew what happened with Brienne, it was him. It seemed the Stark sisters had the same idea. When Jaime rounded the corner towards Bran’s room, they were fast approaching with determined looks on their faces.

With Grey Worm at his back, Jaime knocked loudly on Bran’s door.

“Come in.” Bran’s voice was the only thing calm about the castle. It always unnerved Jaime how indifferent Bran could be under the most dire of circumstances.

Jaime opened the door, but before he could enter, Arya barreled through. Bran’s eyes scanned the four visitors to his chambers. “What is it?”

_ What is it? Does he think he’s here on holiday? _

“Brienne is missing! Aren’t you supposed to see everything?”

Bran only shrugged slightly in response. “I see what I look for. My eyes have been fixed on Dragonstone. Euron and Daenerys are still there. He has secreted Cersei into the cells, though the Dragon Queen doesn’t know it. They are preparing their ships to leave within two days’ time.”

Sansa moved quickly to Bran’s wheelchair and kneeled before him. “Bran, can you find Brienne? Can you see what happened to her? She’s gone.”

The young man’s brows furrowed. “The Queensguard weren’t with her?”

“They stand outside room. She not inside. Only him.” Grey Worm cast an accusatory finger at Jaime.

The Starks looked to Jaime with raised brows. It was Arya who broke the momentary silence. “And you didn’t notice your wife just vanish?”

“I was asleep in my room.” Jaime was exasperated at the irrelevant line of questioning. “Bran, can’t you look and find her? She had to have gone somewhere! I think she climbed down the balcony. She’s done it before.”

“What!?” Sansa and Grey Worm spoke at the same time.

“She would scale down at night to train sometimes. I didn’t know she was doing it after the babes arrived! I can assure you that I would have said something then.”

“How we guard if she climbing Keep walls at night!?” Grey Worm huffed in frustration. Shaking his head, he looked to the ceiling.

Standing from her crouched position by Bran’s chair, Sansa rubbed her forehead in frustration. “This isn’t helping. We have to find her. Bran, please.”

Without another word, Bran’s eyes rolled back in his head. Grey Worm and Sansa began to reprimand Jaime for not mentioning Brienne’s nightly adventures down the balcony sooner. It was a reprimand that Genna and Selwyn would be proud of.

When at last the tirade ended, Jaime could feel Arya staring at him.

“Did you two get in a fight? I thought you were sharing a room lately.”

_ Is there truly no privacy in this Keep? _

“How would you know where I sleep? Are you creeping into my room at night and staring at me like your strange brother?”

Arya smirked. “I’m the Master of Whisperers. You think the castle staff don’t gossip? Your bed has been unused everyday for the last two moons.”

“They’ll definitely need to change the sheets on the morrow.” Bran’s voice caught them all by surprise. He smirked at Jaime. “Twice in one night. Not bad for your  _ age _ .”

Jaime felt his face flame at the words. “You didn’t have to watch  _ everything _ ! Only the part where she left.”

“Fortunately it didn’t take too long.” Bran’s voice was teasing, but the snickers from those in the room made Jaime’s face heat even more.

Dropping any jest from his tone, Bran continued. “Our Queen left the bed when Alysanne awoke to eat. She fed each of the girls, but she couldn’t find rest again. As Ser Jaime noted, she scaled down the castle walls. When she arrived at the yards, she did a few drills, but a young woman’s cry caught her attention. It was a trap. There were a handful of men posing as Gold Cloaks with the women. It was the same group of men who helped Cersei escape. One of them you know quite well, Ronnet Connington. He knocked her unconscious with an oar as the others held her down. They took her into a small boat on the Blackwater.”

Grey Worm moved to leave, but Bran stopped him. “It’s too late. They reached the ship that is taking them to Dragonstone. This was planned. I checked prior nights. They’ve been waiting for her to come into the yards for the past fortnight. They knew somehow. I think it was the woman who informed them. I saw her in the cells with Cersei too.”

Arya grabbed the blade at her hips. “Seven hells. I missed one. What does she look like? I have plans for her.”

Bran nodded. “I’ll tell you. I don’t think she is the only one left, though you got most of them. I’ll look further tonight.”

_ No. This can’t be happening. _

Jaime crouched and buried his face in his hands. The cold metal of the false hand sent a chill down his spine.

_ I can’t lose her. I have to get her back. _


	36. The Dungeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wakes up in a less than ideal situation.

Brienne’s eyes fluttered open slowly. She lay face down on a cold, damp surface; her right cheek pressed against uneven stonework. Light poured in from the window at the far end of the room. As everything came into focus, Brienne recognized the space as a dungeon cell.

All Brienne could smell was blood. Her body was in immense pain as she raised her fingers to her face. Dry blood coated her skin, and the memory of the attack came rushing to the forefront of Brienne’s mind.

_ Days earlier _

Brienne climbed down her balcony as she had many nights prior since the twins’ birth. The need to get her body back into fighting condition hung heavy on her mind. Not long into her drills, Brienne heard the desperate cries of a woman. The voice came from the beach in the distance. Following the cries towards the water’s edge, Brienne saw a group of Gold Cloaks surrounding a woman.

“Stop! What are you doing to her?”

One of the men turned to Brienne; his voice was difficult to hear above the waves of the Blackwater crashing ashore. “The lady was snoopin’, ya grace.”

Taking a step closer, Brienne vaguely recognized the woman. Brienne had seen her with some of the staff members who brought up food from the kitchens. The woman was the quietest of the attendants at the Keep. Her presence of late was inconsistent at best, but Brienne hadn’t given it much thought.

“Are you alright? What are you doing out here?”

Brienne took a step forward; her eyes fixed on the woman. As the attendant’s eyes darted to the Gold Cloaks, she looked back uneasily at Brienne.

“I was just doing my part.”

The words were strange. Moving past two of the Gold Cloaks, Brienne stood before the woman. “Your part?”

Then Brienne felt something hard hit her back. The soldiers began pummeling her body with feet, fists, and sword hilts. As Brienne struggled to her feet and reached for her sword, Brienne heard a familiar voice.  _ Ronnet Connington _ .

“You should have stayed on your island and kept grazing the fields.”

Looking in the direction of Ronnet’s voice, Brienne saw an oar swing violently at her head. Then everything went black.

Now as Brienne lay on the cell floor, she groaned in pain. The breeze pouring through the window pushed back her hair which had fallen messily into her face. Blood coated her blonde locks and matted the hair to her face.

Sitting upright, Brienne felt her nose. It was not broken, but it had bled quite a bit. Her head was throbbing, and a lump had formed where the oar struck her. The next thing that occurred to Brienne was the immense pain in her breasts. They were painfully engorged and hard to the touch. At the realization that she had been away from her babes for so long, Brienne wanted to cry.

The cell had nothing other than straw and a barred window. Moisture wept through the stonework and the smell of the sea filled Brienne’s nose.

_ We’re in the Stormlands or Crownlands; at the water’s edge. The coast or an island. _

“Here I thought cows slept standing upright.”

Brienne didn’t need to turn around to know who was speaking. Cersei’s voice was one that haunted her dreams since Joffrey’s wedding some years ago. Rolling her eyes, Brienne muttered to herself.

_ Truly, this idiot has never been around livestock. _

Hate bubbled in Brienne’s core. What she once felt for Stannis paled in comparison. The thought of Cersei hurting Jaime for so long consumed her, and now she was to endure the former queen’s verbal torture from a cell.

Without turning around, Brienne summoned the cool mask and cutting remarks learned from years of serving Sansa at Winterfell. Years of being on the receiving end of poor treatment by men at encampments. Years of knowing Lannisters. 

“And I thought you did your best plotting while on your back.”

Something slammed into the cell bars. Glancing over her shoulder, Brienne could see Cersei’s enraged face and heaving chest. Cersei grabbed the cell bars and squeezed hard; the whites of her knuckles stood in stark contrast to her reddened face.

The former queen’s rage was palpable, and Brienne smiled inwardly at the fact. Spending enough time around the Lannisters and Starks taught her a thing or two about well-aimed verbal blows. Her first test struck true.

“How dare you speak to me like that! I am the Queen and your head will be the first to adorn the city walls when I reclaim my throne.”

Standing to full height, Brienne moved toward the cell door. She enjoyed the rattled look in Cersei’s eyes as she approached. The former queen’s chin tilted up so as not to break eye contact.

Brienne considered Cersei’s appearance. She looked to be in the same clothing that she arrived at the Red Keep in. Her garments were as filthy and foul smelling as Cersei’s body. The edges of her dress were soiled from birthing Jeyne.

_ She has not been treated as a queen. I doubt Daenerys even knows she is here. Euron is playing both of them. _

“You think yourself a Queen?  _ Whose  _ Queen? Euron’s? It seems to me that he found a new Queen to serve. He can’t even bother to provide you with clean clothing.”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed and her fists gripped the cell bars impossibly tighter. “You fool. He is using the Dragon Queen as Jaime used you. Both men are loyal to me. They’ll lead my new army to overrun whatever pitiful attempt the little dove makes to save you.”

At the mention of Jaime, Brienne stiffened. She couldn’t let Cersei see her doubts. She couldn’t let Cersei know her deepest fears. Instead, Brienne remembered the painful lesson imparted by Jaime, and she steeled herself.

“That’s a fascinating story. Somehow, I don’t imagine it will work out as you think it will. Jaime returned to King’s Landing during the siege to kill you,  _ for me _ . Jaime turned you in at Rosby,  _ for me _ . Jaime refused to return West,  _ for me _ . Jaime sat for hours at  **my** side during labor,  _ for me _ . Jaime took the role of Master of War,  _ for us _ . For  _ our twins _ . For  _ our marriage _ .”

The look in Cersei’s eyes was murderous as Brienne spoke. Despite not believing her own words, Brienne wanted to make Cersei believe them.  _ For Jaime _ . For all that Cersei had done to hurt him. She often lacked the strength to defend herself, but she would not let anyone hurt Jaime.

Grabbing Cersei’s hands and holding them firm against the bar, Brienne recalled Grey Worm’s information and Jaime’s words. As Cersei’s eyes went wide and she tried desperately to break free of Brienne’s grasp, Brienne let a vicious smile tug at her lips. Leaning her head against the bars, Brienne spoke with venom lacing her tone.

“I can’t help but wonder though. It strikes me so very sad that your brother only ever fucked  _ you _ . I imagine it’s quite different from how he makes love to  _ me _ .”

At the words, Cersei snapped. She began screaming and kicked at the bars of Brienne’s cell. With a victorious smile, Brienne released Cersei’s hands and stepped backwards. Despite her precarious situation, Brienne felt in control. Cersei was physically incapable of harming Brienne, and both women knew it. It was Cersei who was safer with Brienne behind bars.

“You  _ whore _ ! My brother could never love a beast such as you! You’ll see when he comes for me!”

With a shrug of feigned indifference, Brienne met Cersei’s eyes. “As he came for you in the cells at the Red Keep? The guards tell me you called out for him. Apologies. He likely couldn’t hear you when he was busy calling out my name.”

It was petty and Brienne knew it. It was also wholly untrue. Brienne had never properly lied before, but it felt as though years of deep hurt combined with feelings of inadequacy and an inability to be loved were manifesting as nastiness directed entirely at Cersei. The woman who hurt the man Brienne loved.

_ Jaime. I never told him that I love him. When they kill me, he’ll never know. _

A deep regret began to course through Brienne. Despite the enjoyment of Cersei’s emotional breakdown, Brienne began to feel sorrow outweigh her need for petty revenge. Fast moving footsteps caught Brienne’s attention. Euron and two guards ran towards Cersei and grabbed the former queen. With a firm hand around Cersei’s mouth, Euron lifted her from the floor.

“ _ Shut up!  _ What did I tell you? The Dragon Queen can’t know you’re here. Do you wish to die before we reclaim the throne?”

As Cersei’s body stilled, Euron lowered her. He glanced at the guards at his back and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Take her back to her cell. I want her gagged and restrained. We can’t have any more outbursts.”

With the guards leading Cersei away, Euron moved close to the bars and peered in at Brienne. There was something dangerous in his eyes that unnerved Brienne. The man looked nothing as he did at the dragonpit.

Euron’s head and face were clean shaven. The clothes he wore looked the part of a Pentoshi trader. His smile was cutting as he appraised Brienne. When Euron’s lips curled, Brienne observed his discolored teeth.

“There are some rules here. I still have spies at the Keep. People with access to your twins. If you tell the Dragon Queen that I have Cersei here, I’ll have the babes killed. If you tell her who I am, I’ll have the Kingslayer’s throat slit in his sleep. Do you understand?”

Brienne felt her legs tremble at the thought of harm befalling her babes or Jaime. If she had to cut off her own tongue to prevent any missteps, she would. With a nod of understanding, Brienne watched as Euron glanced back over his shoulder.

The guards returned at his side and confirmed that Cersei was dealt with as requested. Euron’s eyes glistened with pleasure as he spoke. “Go on. Escort the Dragon Queen down here. She wished to question the prisoner.”

Euron appraised Brienne once more. His eyes sparkled as he leaned in once more. “Play nice, and I might name you my Queen when this is done. I don’t imagine the kingdoms want the mad ones back on the throne. The men say the people have taken to you. I’ll let you serve  _ under me _ . You’ll give me sons where Cersei only offered a daughter. I bet I could please you more than your Kingslayer. I can offer more hands and a bigger cock to ensure as much.”

Bile rose in Brienne’s throat at the thought. She swallowed down her retort; afraid of the consequences for Jaime and her babes. Instead, she let her eyes convey the disdain she felt for Euron.

Approaching footsteps captured Brienne’s and Euron’s attention. Moving towards them with a scowl on her face, Daenerys Targaryen locked eyes with Brienne.

Brienne gasped at the sight of her. Her flesh was rotten and pale. Her eyes were sunken and her hair disheveled. She looked half dead. Barely concealed anger filled Daenerys’ voice when she spoke.

“I remember you from  _ before _ . Where is Jon Snow?”

So startled by Daenerys’ appearance was Brienne, that she struggled for words. Stammering, Brienne shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You named him lord of Dragonstone, and yet you claim to not know where he is. Do you think me a fool?”

Brienne did know where Jon was, but she would die before she put Jon at risk. Shaking her head, Brienne continued the lie.

“We alerted him of your approach, and he fled. We’ve not seen nor heard from him.”

Daenerys gripped the bars in a scene eerily reminiscent to the earlier moment with Cersei. The flesh covering Daenerys’ fingers was in varying stages of decay. Even from the distance between them, the putrid smell of rot assaulted Brienne’s nose.

“I’ll not rest until I find and kill him for betraying me. Anyone harboring him will experience nothing short of fire and blood. I will kill every last person in Westeros to get to him. I think you know where he is. I’ll give you the night to reconsider telling me, or you’ll be the first to feel Drogon’s flames.”

Raising her chin defiantly, Brienne spoke in High Valyrian. ‘ _ Fire cannot kill a dragon. _ ’

It was an expression that Brienne learned in youth. The island of Tarth was familiar with Valyrian culture and expressions. Teachings, language, and history were passed down from generation to generation. Many of Valyrian descent bred with the ancient line on Tarth, and the Andal influence.

Brienne’s father had Targaryen blood as well, though much further removed. It was how he and much of the island understood Valyrian. Tarth had a close connection with House Targaryen since Aegon came conquering. The Tarth triplets were the first product of breeding between the Houses.

The words startled Daenerys. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she loosened her grip on the bars. They exchanged words in Valyrian, and Brienne maintained her claim of not knowing where Jon was. A moment of silence hung over them. Without a word, Daenerys stormed away.

Confusion and hesitance lined Euron’s face. Glancing at Brienne, he barked at his guards. “Watch this one. I want that mouth gagged.”


	37. The Dragon Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of two battles. The Eight Kingdoms face Daenerys and her dragon.

Frantic footsteps echoed off the Keep walls as Sansa ascended the steps in the Tower of the Hand. Her heavy breathing rivaled the sound of her feet hitting the stonework. When she reached the landing, Sansa ran down the hallway towards the room she knew Bran, Selwyn, Jon, and the small council to be.

The group knew Euron’s fleet would arrive in King’s Landing that morning. Rather than give chase to the enemy at Dragonstone, Bran suggested they draw them out. A missive was sent two days following Brienne’s capture. They gave Daenerys the information she wanted; Jon’s location. 

Now the council gathered to go over the backup plan should the city fall. Pushing through the door, those amassed in the space looked to Sansa with worry writ across their faces.

“The Dragon Queen is here.”

Bran offered a knowing smile. It was Bran who had kept them abreast of the enemy’s progress since leaving Essos. Unfortunately, it had been his close monitoring of Daenerys and Euron that allowed him to miss the threat within the Keep. The threat that saw Brienne taken from under them.

_Brienne saved me from Ramsay. She saved me from death. I’ll not leave her to Euron, Cersei, and Daenerys. We’ll save her or die trying._

Without another word, Grey Worm, Jaime, Addam, Ned, and Selwyn stood to leave. The forces were already stationed in the designated areas. The fleet of the Iron Islands, the Reach, and the Stormlands were positioned protectively before the city. They formed a blockade on the Blackwater to refuse access to the port.

Tarth’s archers were to man the scorpions. Among the Westerosi forces, their skill with the bow was second to none; a fact Selwyn had the men prove weeks prior when they put on a demonstration that impressed all assembled.

The Westerosi foot soldiers, Dothraki, and Unsullied stood in formation outside the city gates along the city perimeter. If Euron’s army of sellswords made landfall, they would be met with new opposition. Three-quarters of the Unsullied and Dothraki stood voluntarily against their former queen.

The rest stood warily at the westernmost gates of the city. Jaime had been uneasy about their presence; afraid they would turn on their own comrades upon seeing the dragon queen return. It was a fear shared by Grey Worm. Loyalties to Daenerys were strong among many. Even those agreeing to fight seemed uneasy at the prospect of facing their former queen.

Given the uncertainty, Jaime and Grey Worm had instructed the men to keep an eye to the sea _and_ an eye to their backs. As the men moved quickly past Sansa, she took a deep breath. Arya stood slowly from her seat and looked at Bran. An unspoken conversation passed between the siblings which unsettled Sansa.

_They’re planning something. What are they going to do?_

As Arya moved past her, Sansa grabbed her younger sister’s arm. Their eyes met and Sansa’s expression was a question left unspoken. She swallowed thickly and nodded. “For Brienne.”

A smirk tugged at Arya’s lips. It had become their unofficial war cry in the city after Brienne was kidnapped. As Arya moved from the room, Sansa moved to Tyrion’s side. His hand immediately reached for hers. It brought Sansa back to the crypt at Winterfell. It had been a touch driven by fear and solidarity. Today, it was a touch driven by love. If they would face the dragon’s flames, it would be together.

They had chosen the top room in the Tower of the Hand as their last stand. It was a circular room that offered a full view of the city and sea. Distantly, Sansa heard the commands of the generals. She looked out the easternmost window and saw the incoming threat. In the sky, she observed the outline of the dragon and Euron’s fleet, just as she had only moments earlier when standing by the lookout.

Her mind wandered to Genna and the babes. Genna, the Septa she sent for, and three wet nurses, had taken the twins and Jeyne to a secure location outside the city. The citadel had been informed of the war to come, and the council provided information regarding the children’s location in the event Brienne and Jaime did not survive.

With Brienne captured, the Queensguard now protected Jaime. As consort, he was to lead on account of Alysanne’s age. That fact did not stop Jaime from putting himself directly in harm’s way. Jaime, the Queensguard, Addam, Selwyn, and Ned would be stationed atop the battlements where the visible scorpions were positioned.

Jaime’s plan was broken into two parts. The first was to draw the dragon and Daenerys towards the battlements and visible scorpions. He hoped to keep her attention off the fleet and ground troops by encouraging her to take out the greatest perceived threat. Jaime’s goal was to minimize loss of life and destruction to the city.

While Daenerys was coming for Jon, Jaime hoped his presence and the scorpions would be enough of a distraction. Daenerys hated Jaime and wished him dead. Using himself as bait, Jaime would ensure Bran had time to gain control of Drogon. That was where the second phase of Jaime’s plan came into play.

Bran worried that if he successfully warged into Drogon too early, Daenerys would recognize the change and try to somehow regain control or divert the beast. That said, if she was distracted well enough, Bran could carry out his objective while Drogon was close enough to the Tower of the Hand.

The battlements Jaime positioned himself on were below the Tower of the Hand, running north to south. Jon would wait inside the tower with Bran. When it was clear that Bran had control of the dragon, Jon would stand at the window and call out to Daenerys. Unlike the Long Night, Jon would be the bait rather than Bran.

On the dragon’s approach towards the tower, Jon would move out of the window just in time. In the middle of the room, Bronn sat at a modified scorpion. The scorpion was smaller, but with equal power and accuracy as its larger counterparts. He was currently the only person in Westeros to have success in using one of the contraptions. The hope was that the arrow would be enough to at least stun Drogon, if not kill him.

Then Tarth’s archers manning the other scorpions would finish the dragon off. Now as Sansa looked around the room, each person except Bran, Bronn, and Jon stood guard at a window. Sansa, Tyrion, Sam, Maester Tyton, and Davos stared out at the city before them.

The tension in the room was overwhelming. Sansa felt as though she could barely breathe as the rapid thrum of her heart seemed to drown out all other sound. On instinct, she placed a hand over her belly which had just begun to swell with child.

Once more, Bronn proved incapable of taking the situation seriously. “I hope me arm can aim true after carrying the bird boy up all them steps this mornin’.”

_Gods. This man._

Glancing at Tyrion, Sansa felt her lips tug into a smile. Her love rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. The distance between windows prevented them from continuing to hold hands, but Sansa imagined that if they could, the pulses at their fingertips would be dueling for dominance.

Sansa stared down at the battlements just north of her window. In the distance, she could see Jaime, Selwyn, Ned, and the Queensguard arriving near one of the scorpions. Drogon’s cries could be heard approaching the city, and while Sansa could not see the great beast from her window, Jaime could.

In true Jaime fashion, He climbed atop the stonework of the battlement; standing higher than the scorpion. Sansa gasped and inwardly scolded him for being so reckless given the incredible drop to the ground below.

At his movement, Grey Worm went into a panic, but it was the Hound who reached Jaime first. Sandor reached up with a large hand and grabbed Jaime by the sword belt to keep him rooted in place. Waving his arms aggressively, Jaime screamed at Daenerys. He used his false hand to try to catch the light of the sun; like a lighthouse guiding a ship.

_This man. This is worse than charging a dragon with a spear. Why did we agree to this plan?_

“Fucking idiot.” Tyrion muttered aloud, drawing Sansa’s attention.

Tyrion’s eyes were wide in horror as he craned his neck out from his window to see Jaime. Turning back towards her window, Sansa saw the expression on Jaime’s face shift. A smirk befitting his Kingslayer moniker spread across his face and he raised his flesh hand to wave tauntingly.

_Pull him away. He accomplished what he wanted. He has her attention._

Drogon’s cries were close, and the archers manning the scorpion took aim. The Queensguard began screaming for the planned retreat from the weapon. Their _decoy_ weapon.

“Uh… he supposed to be shakin’ like that?”

At Bronn’s words, Sansa glanced back at Bran and felt her stomach drop. He was convulsing in his wheelchair with his eyes rolled back in his head. Jon moved quickly to Bran’s side, but he had no idea what to do.

_Oh gods. This isn’t going to work._

Glancing back at the battlements, only Jaime, the Hound, and the two archers at the scorpion remained. Sansa could see Jaime shout a command. The archers fired the arrow and scrambled down the southern side of the battlement. Jaime moved off the stonework and ran along the northern side with the Hound close at his heels.

Fire was the next thing to come into view. Drogon quickly passed over with Daenerys on his back. Strangely, the dragon’s fiery breath seemed weak. It was as though the dragon was choking on its own flames as the beast soared past.

Then Sansa heard a loud, desperate gasp behind her. Bran’s eyes were forward, and he was gasping for air as his chest heaved. Meeting Sansa’s eyes, Bran looked panicked.

“I can’t! He’s fighting me off somehow.”

Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she saw panic in Bran’s eyes. The realization sent a chill down her spine. To her left, Davos’ voice was a low grumble.

“Fuck. Not again.”

Everyone except Bran and Bronn ran to Davos’ window. Drogon was carving a path of fire straight towards the westernmost gates. As he went, Drogon destroyed more scorpions along the battlements and breathed fire onto the city below.

As his figure faded into the distance, Sansa could see the unwilling Unsullied and Dothraki running from the incoming dragon. Drogon and Daenerys seemed to care little for where they took aim; only that they destroyed everything and everyone in their path. The dragon looped around to move back towards the Keep.

Jon was back at Bran’s side and pleading with him. “Bran, please! What do we do!? Can you try again!?”

The dragon was making a circle over the city. On his path back, Drogon began to cut through the rows of Unsullied, Dothraki, and Westerosi standing in formation outside the northern gates.

Screams of dying men filled the air and Sansa felt sick to her stomach.

_This is what they all endured the last time. This is what it was like._

Running back to her window, Sansa noted the Queensguard, Jaime, Selwyn, and archers at another scorpion. They were shouting and desperately trying to take aim at Drogon.

“She’s going to burn them all!” Sansa screamed and held her head in shock. The men stood their ground fearlessly as the dragon neared them. Similar to before, the dragon seemed to be struggling. He was flying at a level that would see him crash right into their men atop the battlements. Jon’s frantic voice told Sansa all she needed to know. Bran was desperately trying to gain control.

At the last second, the dragon pulled away, but its wing was hit by an arrow from the scorpion. Drogon cried out and its tail clipped the battlement. The force of the dragon’s tail smashing into the stonework sent massive pieces flying into the air. Sansa watched in horror as two of their men were knocked backwards by the stones and over the other side of the battlements.

Watching the men fall to their deaths, Sansa recognized one to be a Tarth archer and another to be a Queensguard. Sansa felt like she couldn’t breathe. Terror was setting in as the dragon moved quickly east past the Keep.

“Oh no. The fleet.” Sam’s voice captured Sansa’s attention. Turning slowly to her right, Sansa noted the fear in the eyes of those assembled around the eastern facing windows.

Looking at Bran, Sansa could see that he was still convulsing in the chair. He was trying with everything in him to take over the dragon, but he seemed to be at war with the creature.

Sam cried out once more. The horror filling his tone reflected the atmosphere in the room. “The dragon is torching both fleets!”

Once more, Bran began to gasp. His eyes rolled forward, and his frustration and fatigue were evident. “I can’t. He’s too strong.”

Tyrion ran to Bran and grabbed his arms. “Bran. Listen to me. You’re all we have left. We need you to try one more time. Please. You told me why you did it. Why you named Brienne. That you weren’t meant to be lord or king, but rather something else. _This_ is that something else! Please. For Brienne. For all of us.”

Nodding in understanding, Bran took a steadying breath and blinked back the tears coating his eyes. He had never looked more human to Sansa as he did in that moment. Glancing to Jon, Bran nodded.

“Get to the window. This is it.”

Bran’s eyes rolled back without another word, leaving them all standing in silence. Jon looked to Bronn and nodded. As Tyrion moved Bran’s wheelchair out of the way so that Bronn could maneuver the scorpion towards the easternmost window, Jon leaned out.

With everything he had, Jon screamed at Daenerys. Sansa moved behind Bronn to get a better view. She could barely make out the outline of Drogon over the Blackwater. To her right, Bran began to convulse more violently than his previous attempts.

The sight of her brother shaking aggressively caused a pool of tears to form in Sansa’s eyes. She wanted to hold Bran and steady him, but Bran was fighting for all of them now. Tyrion’s hand was firm on Bran’s shoulder as worry clouded his eyes.

When Sansa’s eyes met Tyrion’s, wordless declarations of love were exchanged before they looked towards the window. Jon stood firm and continued screaming at Daenerys.

“Dany! Dany, I’m here! Dany!”

Then Jon’s body froze. Sansa held her breath as the outline of the dragon began moving straight towards them. It was struggling once more, but on this pass, little to no fire escaped its jaws.

_Bran’s doing it. He’s gaining control._

“Steady now, Jon.” Davos’ voice was like a prayer settling over the room. They needed the dragon close enough for the arrow to strike true.

As Drogon approached, Jon slowly leaned back inside the room. The last thing Sansa heard was Jon whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Dany.”

Bronn’s shout spurred Jon to action. “Move!”

As Jon dove out of the way, Bronn fired the arrow. The massive arrow flew straight out the window and into Drogon’s gullet. The dragon cried out in pain as Bran convulsed harder, but still his eyes remained rolled back in his head. Everyone ran towards the windows as the stunned dragon began to fall towards the battlements below.

Sansa looked out the window and she could see Jaime at the only remaining scorpion atop the battlement that the dragon was nearing. Jaime released the arrow and struck as true as Bronn had.

Drogon fell lifeless to the battlement with Daenerys still on his back. At the impact, the battlement began to crumble. Daenerys dove off Drogon and scrambled up the collapsing stonework. Moving quickly, Daenerys stumbled in the direction of Jaime and the guards.

From their distance, Sansa observed how pale the dragon queen’s skin was. She looked to have decayed quite a bit since she was raised by a priestess. As her body darted towards safety, Daenerys stood upright.

Standing protectively before his Consort, Grey Worm’s face contorted in pain as his dagger dragged across Daenerys’ pale throat. The distance was too great to hear his words, but Sansa saw his lips move and she knew what their Lord Commander said.

“For Brienne.”


	38. The YMBQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and the crown's forces arrive at Dragonstone for their queen.

Jaime stood at the bow of the ship. The soldiers assembled on deck were silent as all eyes remained fixed on Dragonstone. The island stretched out before them in the distance as an early morning fog covered the sea.

Just three days prior, they won the battle, but not the war. Daenerys and her dragon were dead with no red priestess to bring them back. Even if there was such a priestess, she may be disinclined to do so on account of Daenerys’ missing face.

Glancing to his right, Jaime noted the resolute expression of Arya Stark. The girl had collected a face to ensure she could collect another name. To Jaime’s left Selwyn stood tall and angry.

The older lord had claimed Ronnet in the battle to come... if the miserable shit was still alive. Jaime cared little for how the soon to be dead were divvied up among their men. All he cared about was getting to Brienne.

When the dragon fell from the sky, Euron’s ships that had not been set ablaze retreated. After collecting their soldiers on land, the crown’s forces pursued Euron.

By their estimate, Euron had roughly 3,000 men left to fight for his cause. The crown had three times that amount sailing to Dragonstone aboard the ships of the Ironborn, Stormlands, and the Reach.

Jaime had more men request to fight for their Queen than could fit aboard the ships. Even the Dothraki and Unsullied who had refused to participate in the battle against Daenerys, now volunteered to fight. The Unsullied and Dothraki had not previously been on the receiving end of dragonfire, but now that they shared the unpleasant experience with the Westerosi, they were united.

It was likely that Euron would beat them to Dragonstone by a few hours. Jaime prayed to the seven that Brienne was in a cell and not dead.

When they left, Bran confirmed that Brienne and Cersei had been left on the island with a small group of guards. Cersei had managed to convince the guards to remove her restraints, but she had been unable to convince the men to hurt Brienne.

Euron had provided strict orders to those remaining behind. From what Bran gathered, it seemed that Euron intended to keep Brienne alive and force their union.

Having heard of Brienne’s popularity and strong claim to the throne, Euron knew that he couldn’t take Cersei as his bride. The people would revolt, and Euron would have rebelling kingdoms to contend with.

Instead, Euron sought to control the kingdoms through Brienne. Brienne would be his wife, and Cersei would be his paramour. By keeping Cersei close, Euron thought he would be able to control the Westerlands which, alongside the Reach, still had the largest remaining Westerosi army. Of course, Cersei was unaware of Euron’s latest scheme.

Jaime thought it laughable. The would-be pirate never struck Jaime as intelligent despite being an admirable fighter and sailor. If he thought to force Brienne to do something she didn’t want, he had another thing coming. 

_ She is more likely to have disemboweled him already. Knowing Brienne, she is sitting on the beach awaiting a ship to take her home. _

As much as the thought amused Jaime, he was worried. Knowing Brienne was alone and surrounded by the enemy had Jaime in a panic. At his back, the Queensguard and Addam stood silent.

They had lost Ser Boros in the attack on King’s Landing. They lost many to dragonfire as well, but not as many as Euron was about to lose.

The ships sailed forward in eerie silence. Despite the quiet, Jaime could feel the resolve of the combined forces. Selwyn’s anger was not unique. Euron and Cersei had kidnapped the Eight Kingdoms’ Queen. The Queen they chose regardless of her lineage. The Queen who cared for the people more than herself. The Queen who had a youthful energy that was contagious. The Queen who Jaime thought to be more beautiful than Cersei could ever be; inside and out.

As the ships neared Dragonstone, Jaime observed the castle preparing for battle. Euron had lined up the men outside the Keep in formation and Jaime couldn’t help but laugh at his poor battle tactics.

Jaime would have had men on the beach to greet the rowboats with arrows and swords. Jaime would have taken advantage of Dragonstone’s rise and landscape by preparing trebuchets to fire blazing projectiles at the ships. 

_ Idiot. He is practically holding open the door for us. _

The Unsullied and Dothraki had called Dragonstone home briefly. They were likely laughing inwardly as well. Jaime glanced over his shoulder at Grey Worm. He appeared to be nothing the same stupidity atop the cliffs that Jaime had. When Grey Worm’s eyes met Jaime’s, both men’s lips stretched into knowing smirks.

_ This will be done in an hour’s time. _

As the ships glided between Euron’s anchored fleet, the men came to life. It was the Unsullied who started the commotion. They began to thrum the bottom of their spears against the wooden deck. Jaime glanced left and right. The sound carried across the ships and raised towards the cliffs; reaching up for the army of sellswords at the Keep.

When the Westerosi fell into rhythm with the blunt ends of their weapons, Jaime knew that Euron could hear them. It was likely the mainland could hear them.

The commanders aboard each ship knew of the plan. They would let their Kingslayers ashore first. The younger Kingslayer would be escorted by the older Kingslayer.

With a wide smile, Arya donned her newest face and pulled her cloak over her head. Jaime came face to face with Daenerys Targaryen one final time. Per Jaime’s plan, the Queensguard and armies would see them to shore as a feigned exchange of Queens.

With uncontested access to the beach, the first row boats moved toward the shore. It took some time, but when no space remained on the beach, they began their march up the long stairway towards the Keep under the false flag of truce.

The rowboats continued to bring men ashore as Jaime and the Queensguard led Arya in her full Targaryen grandeur up the steps. As they neared the Keep, Euron pushed his way towards the front of the lines. His eyes went wide when they landed on Daenerys.

With his flesh hand at Arya’s shoulder, Jaime cocked his head and smirked at Euron. “I do believe we had a slight mix-up with our Queens. You have mine. I have yours.”

Euron narrowed his eyes at Jaime and tilted his head. The tension between the opposing forces was palpable as Euron took a step forward.

“I intend to keep the tall bitch. She quite likes me. I think we’ll make a fine pair ruling together. As I see it, your army is now  _ mine _ . Her Grace wants the men to stand down. We’re to be wed. Why would I need that half-dead woman at your hip?”

Jaime knew Euron would have little need for Daenerys now. Not without her dragon.

“Don’t you wonder how she stands here before you? You saw the dragon plummet from the sky, correct?”

Euron’s brows furrowed in question. As his eyes darted to Daenerys, they narrowed once more. With a smile his father would be intimidated by, Jaime locked eyes with Euron.

“We have a red priestess of our own. She raised Daenerys before raising Drogon. Jon Snow is riding the dragon as we speak. The  _ third _ Targaryen. As I see it, you have one of two options. Agree to the exchange of Queens, or burn under dragonfire. If we don’t get our Queen back, the men aboard the ships will give the signal, and Jon will move in to burn your shit army to the ground.”

Euron paled slightly as his eyes scanned the sky above. He took a hesitant step back and appraised Daenerys. “Can you call the beast off? Is he still yours?”

Without missing a beat, Arya snarled and spoke as confidently as Daenerys often had. “Of course. I am the mother of dragons. The dragon bows to me.”

Considering her, Euron tilted his head. “Well then, my queen, time is wasting. Stay here Kingslayer, and I’ll get the big bitch. That one comes with me though.”

Euron’s finger jabbed towards Daenerys; a smirk spreading across his face.

A cutting smile lined Jaime’s face in reply. “Perfect. As you can imagine, I can only handle one Queen at a time… what with my  _ one _ good hand and all.”

At the reference to Euron’s slight towards Jaime from nearly two years ago, the Greyjoy pirate chuckled nastily. Jaime glanced at Arya and smirked before turning his attention back to Euron. “Good luck Euron. This one is an annoying shit.”

The look in Daenerys’ eyes let Jaime know that Arya understood the comment to be directed at her. He knew it would cost him later, but it was worth it.

Arya took a step towards Euron and allowed him to grab her by the shoulder. Euron pushed back the cloak and appraised her. With a satisfied hum, Euron began to tug her towards the Keep.

When Euron and Daenerys reached the entrance, Jaime brought his hand to his mouth and called out loudly.

“Oh, and Euron!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Euron looked at Jaime; his eyes straining over rows of sellswords who stood at the ready.

“When you see Queen Brienne, tell her that I’m here!  _ For her _ !”

At Jaime’s words, he heard the cloaked archers of Tarth quickly ready their bows and arrows. Before Euron could blink, the archers fired past the Queensguard and Jaime, and into the rows of sellswords.

Loud cries of “For Brienne!” rang out as the crown’s forces charged ahead at the sellswords. Euron didn’t have a chance to register what was going on before Arya’s dagger was thrust under his chin and into his head.

Removing Daenerys’ face, the young wolf began to easily fell approaching sellswords with fluid movements that would have impressed Ser Arthur Dayne himself.

Jaime unsheathed his sword and began slicing through any sellsword foolish enough to come near him. All he could think about was Brienne. He needed to get to her quickly before the enemy did. Knowing Cersei, if she knew Euron was dead, she would stop at nothing to kill Brienne if she could rally some men. 

Jaime felt like a man possessed. He slashed through sellsword after sellsword like a man half his age. The crown’s forces were too many and too skilled; the resolve of the sellswords too weak. Had they been a stronger company such as the Golden Company, it might have been a more memorable fight.

It didn’t take long for Jaime to cut through the enemy and reach the Keep. With the Queensguard at his back, they joined Arya in massacring all enemies inside the Keep. Something caught Jaime’s eye to his left, but before the threat could near him, a massive frame slammed into the assailant.

Jaime blinked as Selwyn began bludgeoning everyone near Jaime as though an ant to be stepped on. Looking back at Jaime, Selwyn barked. “Go find my daughter! Let me have some fun up here!”

Without awaiting the Queensguard who were occupied with sellswords of their own, Jaime ran down the hall in desperate search of the dungeon stairs. He cut through several sellswords on his way, and he soon found a stairway descending into the bowels of the Keep.

Jaime moved down the steps and into the darkness. As he moved lower into the Keep, only torchlight guided him. Torchlight and the thought of Brienne.

When Jaime’s foot reached the bottom stair, three sellswords charged at him from a darkened hallway. He ducked under the first sellsword’s wild swing and cut across the man’s middle. Spinning left and dropping to his knee, Jaime avoided the blade of the second man and thrust his sword into the enemy’s side.

Using the man’s body as a shield against the third assailant, Jaime released his grip on Widow’s Wail and grabbed his dagger. Jaime sliced across the third man’s neck; blood splattering on Jaime’s face and chest. With all three men dead or writhing on the floor, Jaime dropped his dagger and grabbed the hilt of Widow’s Wail to yank it from the man’s side.

Looking around, Jaime realized he was in the dungeons. “Brienne!?”

Running down the rows of cells, Jaime sheathed his sword. A pair of hands came to cell bars at the end of the row on the left. He would know that milky white skin anywhere.

_ Brienne _ .

When Jaime arrived at the cell, his flesh and false hand reached for Brienne’s wrists. His eyes filled with tears of joy when he saw her unharmed before him. The men had gagged her, but she otherwise appeared well. His left hand moved from Brienne’s wrist to her cheek.

“Brienne. Are you alright?”

With a small nod of affirmation, Brienne’s eyes smiled warmly where her lips could not. Then her eyes went wide, and she tried to scream, but the gag muffled her cry. Brienne pressed her body close to the cell doors and extended her right hand over Jaime’s shoulder.

Intense pain flashed in Brienne’s eyes. Turning his head left to see the assailant, Cersei stood behind him. She had a dagger mere inches from Jaime’s head, but it had gone through Brienne’s right arm after slicing down her palm.

The realization that Brienne had saved his life was quickly wiped away by Brienne’s muffled cries. Cersei yanked the dagger from Brienne’s arm; her eyes clouded with rage.

_ She hurt Brienne. This fucking bitch needs to die now. _

Jaime grabbed Cersei’s throat with his flesh hand. As Cersei’s right hand grabbed desperately at his wrist, she tried to stab Jaime with the dagger in her left hand. Jaime blocked the blow with his right arm before using his false hand to knock the dagger from her grasp. Jaime slammed her hard into the cell opposite Brienne.

“You fucking hateful bitch! I should have killed you the day you blew up the Sept! I should have let you die in the Dragon Queen’s destruction! I wish I finished the task that I went there for!”

Cersei’s eyes went wide at Jaime’s words. She choked and clutched at Jaime’s left hand as it tightened around her throat. Tears formed in Cersei’s eyes as she struggled for breath.

Jaime was blinded by rage.

_ She hurt Brienne. She wants Brienne dead. She tried to kill me. _

Jaime watched as life began to leave Cersei. He remembered all the years of Cersei telling him that they were born together and would die together. That they were one soul and two bodies. Mirror images. He needed Cersei to know the truth as she fell into the Stranger’s arms.

“You are not my mirror image! You are not my other half! Brienne is the only woman I have ever truly loved! Brienne is all that matters. My heart beats for her.”

Tears spilled over the edges of Cersei’s eyes as her body began to still. Leaning all his body weight into Cersei, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth.

“Brienne is far more beautiful than you could ever be.”

Something flashed in Cersei’s eyes. It was an understanding for something which Jaime lacked context. As the tears stopped flowing from Cersei’s eyes, Jaime watched the life leave her body.

Jaime released his grip on Cersei and watched her crumple to the floor. Taking a step backwards, Jaime turned to face Brienne. She was on her knees clutching her right arm. Brienne’s expression was one of disbelief as she stared wide-eyed at Jaime. 

Dropping to his knees before the cell door, Jaime reached inside and tugged at the cloth binding used to gag Brienne. With her mouth free, Jaime grabbed her right hand and pulled it through the bars to inspect the wound.

As Jaime lifted his head to meet Brienne’s eyes, her left hand reached through the bars and came to his cheek. The look on her face took Jaime’s breath away. Brienne smiled softly as tears filled her eyes. She spoke in a whisper as her thumb rubbed his cheek.

“I love you.”


	39. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get some much needed time together. Brienne is reunited with her babies.

Brienne sat on the small cot below deck as Sam finished bandaging her hand and forearm. The wound was incredibly painful and worried Brienne. She wondered whether she would be able to wield a sword properly in her dominant hand.

_Don’t even complain about it to Jaime. He lost his bloody hand for me._

With the bandage securely in place, Sam smiled affably. “There you go, Your Grace. You’re certain you don’t want poppy? That wound is nasty.”

Shaking her head, Brienne smiled politely and declined. “No thank you, Sam. Fortunately this happened _after_ birthing twins. It might have seemed worse otherwise.”

At the thought of the twins, Brienne’s mind returned to her painfully engorged breasts. She prayed to any God who would listen to ensure the babes were hungry upon return. The thought was soon replaced by a deep fear that had taken root in her core before her rescue.

Euron’s army had left Dragonstone nearly a week ago. He left behind a handful of guards to ensure Brienne and Cersei were well guarded. They men generally ignored her aside from bringing in stale bread and a small cup of water every other day.

Brienne grew lethargic as her stomach cried out for nourishment. Almost a week after Euron’s fleet left, they returned. The guards shouted and cheered as the lookout announced the fleet’s return. It had taken everything in Brienne not to break down and cry. She thought Euron and Daenerys had won, as did the guards. Some hours later, three guards came into the cell. They shoved the cloth gag back into her mouth and tied it tightly. Leaning down, a vicious smile tugged at one of the men's lips.

“Remember… not a word or our king will gut ya babes right before ya eyes.”

When the guards left the cell, it was the first time the tears fell. Euron won the war and had her babes, but she despaired at what happened to Jaime. For hours, Brienne thought her life over. The shattered pieces of her heart had fallen into her stomach. Only an empty chest remained and Brienne felt the cold sink in. It seemed a matter of time before she took her last breath. Brienne prayed to the Seven that she would be reunited with Jaime and her babes in death.

Breaking Brienne from her thoughts, the door to the small room below deck opened to reveal Jaime. He was carrying in a jug of water and cups under his arm. Everything at Dragontsone still seemed overwhelming to reflect on. When Brienne watched as Jaime killed his own sister, the woman he had loved for so long, she went into shock. His words to Cersei as the life left her body were what startled Brienne the most.

It was then that she realized it. All the desperate pleas and words of love over the past moon turns were nothing but genuine. There was never a hidden agenda or second choice for Jaime. He had chosen Brienne. She had believed in his love for two moons, but it was his heart’s deepest desire that Brienne had struggled to believe. 

At Jaime’s entry, Sam gathered his things and took a final glance at Brienne before leaving. “If you change your mind about the poppy, just let me know.”

Jaime closed the door behind Sam and moved to the cot. Since her rescue, Jaime had refused to leave Brienne’s side. It wasn’t until Brienne begged Sam for water that Jaime left, ensuring the young man could finish stitching her hand and arm.

Jaime pressed close at Brienne’s right side as he offered a cup of water. His body heat warmed the chill that clung to her skin from a week in the cell at Dragonstone.

Brienne took a long sip of water. Its effects were almost immediate as her body sagged in relief. She was dehydrated, starving, and weak, but with Jaime at her side, Brienne had everything she needed.

“You’ve not taken anything for the pain?” Jaime grimaced as he looked at her bandages.

“You’re one to talk. Qyburn practically performed surgery on your wrist and you refused medicine.”

Jaime sighed and shook his head. “Well that’s different. I don’t want to see you in pain. It shouldn’t have happened. Cersei should have died long ago. If it weren’t for me…”

“Then I would have died.” Brienne cut him off; her tone brokering no argument. “We all would have died. My father was quite clear that your plans were what ensured victory both here and at King’s Landing.”

Jaime muttered and shook his head. His fingers rubbed Brienne’s exposed fingers and palm soothingly, but something seemed to trouble Jaime. His brows furrowed and the corners of his eyes crinkled. When he looked at her, all Brienne saw was pain in his features.

“After they took you, my aunt told me that you feel like the scraps I was left with. That if Cersei didn’t betray me, I would be with her. That you think of yourself as my second choice.”

Brienne sighed and looked to the floor. It felt too exposing to be confronted with her insecurities and staunchly held beliefs that shaped how she responded to others. She had failed to believe Jaime’s words because of her inability to see herself as others might. Her views were shaped by a lifetime of mockery, hurt, and pain that she grew to know as fact; not opinions.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. You have every right to be angry at me.”

At Brienne’s words, Jaime’s body tensed, and his head snapped to meet Brienne’s eyes.

“I don’t blame you. If I didn’t lie to you, you wouldn’t have doubted me. You didn’t doubt me at Winterfell before I left. That’s not why I mentioned it.”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime looked to the opposite wall and tried to find the words.

“What I told you in the Riverlands was true. We don’t get to choose who we love. It’s quite amusing to think back on really; how I was speaking in defense of our love for others at the time, but it was you who I came to love above anyone else. It is you who became the _only_ love of my life. I wanted to leave Cersei so many times over the years. Even now, I couldn’t tell you why I stayed. All I know is that I have loved you since that _eventful_ trip through the Riverlands. I didn’t only start loving you when Cersei betrayed me. In truth, I betrayed her first. I gave away my heart to you before I came to learn of her betrayals. Before I came to realize how far removed from love our relationship was. I meant what I said. I would do anything for you. I killed my hateful sister for you. I would die for you.”

Brienne felt her heart constrict at the words. “I don’t want you to die for me. I don’t want you to feel the need to prove your love by doing things that dishonor you or endanger you. I didn’t even want you having to kill your sister for me. I just want you to _stay_ , because I love you and I’ll be miserable without you.”

Brienne felt Jaime’s fingers grab her chin and tilt her head towards him. His lips pressed gentle and warm to Brienne’s. Where many of their past kisses were passionate and desperate, this was tender and sweet.

Strong arms wrapped around Brienne’s body and held her close. When her uninjured hand came to Jaime’s cheeks, it felt like they were back at Winterfell. It made Brienne take pause. Unlike that night when he left, now he stayed. Their foreheads rested gently together, and a companionable silence fell over them.

There was a stillness to it. If Brienne tried hard enough, she could see the light snow falling around them in the courtyard at Winterfell. He didn’t need a horse to take him south, and she didn’t have tears to drown in. This time, he would stay. This time, they knew what the other wanted.

Three days later, Brienne and Jaime stood shoulder to shoulder at the bow of the ship. The dock was filled with people waiting to see their forces return. With a knowing smile, Bran sat in his wheelchair at the end of the dock.

_Of course they’ve had ample warning that we’re coming._

Genna, Sansa, and Tyrion stood with a babe in each arm. The sight of her girls made Brienne’s spirits soar. Before thinking their forces had lost, Brienne had feared never seeing her family again if Euron and Cersei killed her. Sitting in the cell at Dragonstone, Brienne had considered that her girls might come to know a life without her; a fate similar to her own mother’s fate.

_I could have been little more than a story to them._

The closer the ship came to dock, the louder their cries grew. Genna looked ready to keel over from fatigue. She shouted to Brienne as their eyes found one another.

“Thank the Gods! This raven thing said your teats are about to fall off if you miss another feeding! The babes don’t seem to care much. They’re hungry _now_.”

Jaime snorted at his aunt’s words. Placing his arm around Brienne, Jaime guided her towards the gangway being set out as the ship tied off to dock. Despite Brienne’s preference for a horse, they had brought a carriage so that Brienne could immediately feed the babes.

The ride to the Keep was mercifully short. Jaime held Joanna to Brienne’s right breast while Brienne fed Alysanne at the left. The relief was incredible, and Brienne just wanted to crawl into bed with her young family.

Moving inside, the castle staff greeted them excitedly. It was a welcome home unlike anything Brienne imagined. Everyone seemed eager to share their joy at Brienne’s safe return. As touching as it was, Brienne was exhausted.

Genna instructed the staff to send food to the room and Brienne was grateful for it. When they arrived at her chambers, Jaime rocked Joanna to sleep. Fortunately, Alysanne had fallen asleep in the carriage and Brienne was able to crawl into bed after taking a quick bath and changing her clothing. A heavy sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips as she watched Jaime cradle Joanna in his arms.

Even when her heart was guarded, Brienne loved watching Jaime with the girls. He had a way with them that enchanted Brienne. The ease with which he loved the girls warmed her heart. It seemed absurd now to think he would have chosen them second to Cersei’s babe.

When Joanna’s little lids closed, Jaime put her down carefully before crawling into bed with Brienne. He held her close and placed gentle kisses to her face. If Brienne could stay in bed forever with Jaime pressed close and their girls at their side, she would.

Allowing herself the opportunity to sink into Jaime’s embrace, Brienne closed her eyes and found sleep. The rest was peaceful and undisturbed. There were no visions of Jaime turning his back on her, or Cersei sneering at her.

Then Brienne felt something shaking her. Her eyes blinked open and the room slowly came into view. Brienne’s head rested comfortable under Jaime’s chin as he lay on his back. The steady rise and fall of his chest told Brienne that it wasn’t him who woke her.

Glancing up, Brienne saw Genna hovering over them. The older woman smiled warmly and inclined her head towards the table where food had been brought in.

“You’ve been asleep for hours. The wet nurses already tended to the babes, and the girls have been with me, Selwyn, Tyrion, and Sansa. You two should eat something.”

Sitting upright, Brienne nodded. Genna patted Brienne’s head and moved from the room. At the loss of Brienne’s body weight and warmth, Jaime rolled to his side and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Jaime. Wake up.” Brienne ran a hand through his hair. After many moons under the southern sun, his locks were golden once more. His beauty always took Brienne’s breath away, but something about him seemed different now. It was as though a deep peace had settled over his features that were once clouded with worry. 

Grumbling in response, Jaime pulled her down to him. “Just a while longer.”

“Joanna and Alysanne are with our family.” Brienne watched Jaime’s eyes open. Turning to appraise the empty cradles, Jaime’s brows furrowed. That they both slept through a stream of people entering to get the girls and leave food reflected how tired they were. Moon turns of hurt, despair, and fear had taken all the energy out of them.

When at last they found their way to the table, Jaime pulled his seat close to Brienne.Any physical separation from Brienne seemed to trouble Jaime deeply. She understood the feeling, because she shared the sentiment.

Jaime’s right arm was around Brienne’s chair as he ate. Her left arm was at his knee. Eating with her wounded hand and arm wasn’t a pleasant task, but like Jaime, she only wanted proximity; not distance. The feel of his body against hers was more comforting than letting the wound heal.

They spoke of lighter topics as they ate. Both were hungry from lack of food over the past week. While apart, neither had eaten whether by force or lack of desire. When their plates were empty, Brienne felt Jaime’s eyes on her.

Looking at him, Brienne watched as Jaime’s lips parted slightly before speaking. “I don’t want to sleep in separate beds any longer. I don’t want any of those terms for our marriage. I just want to be with you.”

With a small smile, Brienne held his eyes and responded. “We could convert your room to a nursery. Just while the girls are young and in need of us. Then I don’t much care for them to have immediate access to our room when they’re older.”

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face. “Good. And the rest of it?”

Brienne huffed at the question. It struck her odd that Jaime truly thought she would have taken advantage of it. “Do you think I would have taken another?”

The look on his face was difficult to read. He seemed to struggle with the thought. “I don’t think you set out to, but when I saw you with Ned… he would have made a perfect match for you. Of course, you had to find a Dayne with _Ned bloody Stark’s_ name. It’s just… he has all the things that I don’t.”

Jaime grumbled, but Brienne could hardly believe the words. “Ned is an incredible man and he’ll make a fine husband for someone, but he could never replace you.” With a small smirk, Brienne did her best impression of Jaime.

“There are no men like you. Only you.”

Jaime snorted in response. His mood lightened as he teased. “Well I am _very_ handsome and _very_ charming.”

Biting back a life, Brienne nodded in feigned agreement as her brows furrowed. “Handsome, yes.”

“Do you not find me equally charming, _Lady Brienne_?”

It felt like their conversations before Jaime rode south. Conversations with friends like Ned, Sansa, and Pod were easy, but there was nothing that compared to speaking with Jaime. They needled one another, but unlike their time in the Riverlands, the words lacked bite.

“That would be _Queen Brienne_ , but you can call me ‘Your Grace’.”

Jaime guffawed at the words. “You let everyone else call you by name alone. No titles. _Just Brienne._ ”

“Yes, well the difference is that you annoy me.”

Feigning offense, Jaime leaned back. “You said on your nameday that you enjoyed eating with me.”

“That’s because your mouth is full, and you can’t ruin it.”

Jaime chuckled as a wide smile stretched across his face. When he looked back at Brienne, his eyes danced with mirth. “I’ve missed you.”


	40. The Executions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime dotes on his girls before handling a very important execution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter involves a cruel torture scene (Team Euron execution - not Team Braime). If you would rather not read that, I'll include an end note.

Jaime awoke with his arms wrapped possessively around Brienne. The first rays of sunlight stretched over the city as Jaime glanced towards the balcony. It had been a restful night with the girls sleeping for longer stretches. There was a sense of peace blanketing in the room.

Glancing towards the cradles, Jaime smiled as he considered his young family. The love of his life slept soundly in his arms; forever safe from those who had meant to harm her. With Cersei, Euron, and Daenerys in the seven hells, Jaime felt a weight removed that had pressed in on them from all angles prior to the war.

The steady rise and fall of Brienne’s chest brought Jaime’s attention back to her. Only the day prior, they had returned to the city. Brienne’s injury was assessed by Maester Tyton the evening prior and while it would take time to recover, he felt that she would have full mobility of her sword arm.

Leaning down, Jaime wrapped his arms tighter around Brienne. Her back was pressed to Jaime’s chest and their legs intertwined. Something felt different about that morning compared to morning’s prior when they awoke in each other’s arms. Even in sleep, Brienne’s features had appeared tense before the war.

Now, the contours of Brienne’s face were relaxed. Worry lines gave way to a youthful tranquility that Jaime did not wish to disturb. Enjoying the warmth of their bed a while longer, Jaime smiled into the back of Brienne’s neck. He breathed in her scent and placed a gentle kiss to her back.

In one of the cradles, Jaime heard a babe begin to stir. Little coos filled the room and sought attention. Jaime moved quietly from the bed towards the babe in need of morning cuddles. At his approach, Joanna’s little arms and legs began to flail excitedly. The coos became more playful as Jaime reached down and scooped up his second born. He whispered to the girl as he moved away from the cradles.

“Good morning. Are you excited to see me? Is it because we’re both a younger twin?”

Moving into his old room, Jaime changed Joanna’s nappy and played with her. He blew raspberries onto her little belly and let Joanna squeeze his fingers.

“You have a good grip. Don’t squeeze too hard. I only have five fingers left.”

As Joanna kicked and squirmed, the babe’s eyes looked around the room. The early morning light caught a tray set atop the corner table and cast shimmering streaks of light onto the ceiling. Joanna cooed happily at the dancing light as Jaime watched her take in the world.

The young babe drooled slightly as she made little sounds that tugged at Jaime’s heart. Brienne and the twins meant everything to Jaime, and he knew that he stood no chance against them. Anything they wanted he would procure for them.

Footsteps at Jaime’s back drew his attention from Joanna. A sleepy Brienne shuffled into the room with a lazy smile on her face.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” Jaime picked up Joanna and crossed the room towards Brienne.

With a small yawn, Brienne shook her head. “I sleep better when you’re in the bed.”

The words sent an incredible warmth through Jaime. He shared the same sentiment. The many nights separated by a door from his love had been wearing. It was Jaime’s desire to never spend another night apart.

Leaning up, Jaime placed a gentle kiss to Brienne’s lips. She reached out for Joanna and took the babe in her arms. “Is she hungry?”

“Well she asked for lemon cakes, but I told her that you ate them all.”

Brienne snorted and moved back into their room. Sitting on the bed, she brought the young babe to her breast before glancing in the direction of Alysanne. A small frown tugged at her lips.

“I don’t think I can feed them both.”

In the middle of the night, they had to call for one of the wet nurses. Brienne had cried silently as she found herself without enough milk for the girls. The time apart had adversely impacted her supply. The wet nurses and Maester Tyton said that it could be possible for Brienne to increase her milk production, but it might take time and much effort.

Jaime sat next to Brienne and put an arm around her shoulders. His left hand rubbed Joanna’s head as she fed contentedly. Placing a kiss to Brienne’s temple, Jaime tried to make her feel better.

“Others can help feed them, but no one can replace you. They just want you here.”

Brienne leaned against Jaime slightly while ensuring Joanna was undisturbed. She looked to Jaime with a curious expression on her face. “What did Arya mean last night about having a collection to rival the House of Black and White?”

Jaime chuckled lightly as he recalled the conversation at supper. He remembered the young wolf’s efforts the day after Brienne’s capture.

_ A week prior _

Jaime and Addam followed Arya through the deserted city streets. Both men were concealed under cloaks despite the night blanketing them. Jaime’s eyes darted to Arya. The young wolf didn’t require a cloak. She had a face.

With the information obtained from Bran, Arya identified her final two targets. Her first target was Dorna. Dorna was a quiet kitchen maid and Cersei’s longest standing loyalist. Unlike the others who spoke with loose tongues, Dorna and Aemma proved well-schooled in the art of laying low and avoiding questioning eyes. They were the last remaining of Cersei’s spies placed throughout the keep.

Moving through the Mud Gate, Jaime felt his heart quicken in anticipation. The woman they sought had placed the love of Jaime’s life in harm’s way. Today would be the last that Aemma would draw breath in this world.

Before killing Dorna, Arya forced her hand to write a letter to Aemma. They would meet outside the Mud Gate where Dorna would share the final set of instructions from Cersei. The letters had been the method of communication between the pair. Meetings were never held in the Keep or city center, but rather on the outskirts with the other loyalists or the men led by Ronnet.

Now as they neared the meeting point, Jaime smirked at the sight of the cloaked woman hiding in the shadows. At their approach, Aemma looked hesitantly at Addam and Jaime. Their faces were well covered, and Jaime had his false hand hidden under the cloak.

In Dorna’s voice, Arya spoke. “Cersei sent back two of Ronnet’s men to see us to safety. War is coming from Dragonstone, but we have one final task.”

Aemma’s eyes darted frantically around the area. “We should have left already. What more does the Queen need from us?”

Taking a final step forward so that she was within arm’s length of Aemma, Arya tilted her head. Her voice was but a whisper, but Jaime and Addam could hear the words.

“She needs us to meet with someone who can help us deliver our final message. The truth must be heard in the Seven Hells and the Stranger will help us deliver it.

Arya’s hand thrust a dagger into Aemma’s gut. The young woman’s eyes went wide and she glanced down in shock at the wound. Moving quickly, Jaime and Addam shoved the woman backwards and against the wall. The sudden movement resulted in the hoods falling from both heads. Jaime and Addam pinned the girl to the wall as Arya stepped forward and removed Dorna’s face.

A sob pushed past Aemma’s lips. She glanced to each man at her side and her face fell as realization dawned. Tears flooded Aemma’s eyes and she whimpered.

“Please. Mercy.”

Arya stalked forward with a wolfish smile. “Mercy? You endangered the life of our Queen to aid a madwoman.  _ Our Queen _ who I consider a sister.  _ Our Queen _ who the people love.  _ Our Queen _ whose babes need her. Did your actions afford her mercy?”

Jaime growled at the woman’s side. “If anything happens to my wife, I’ll find a red priestess to raise you from the Seven Hells so that I can pick you apart piece by piece.”

“M’lord, please. I was only being loyal.”

A vicious smile spread across Jaime’s face as he stared deep into Aemma’s eyes. “Fuck loyalty.”

Aemma’s eyes went wide and she began to flail and cry. She tried to cry out for aid, but there was no one left in the city aside from soldiers. Soldiers prepared to defend the city  _ for Brienne _ .

“Let everyone in the Seven Hells know that  _ their Queen _ is soon to join them. The living will see it done for  _ our Queen _ .  _ For Brienne _ . The North remembers. The West sends their regards.”

Arya pulled the dagger from Aemma’s gut and dragged it across the loyalist’s throat. Blood sprayed everywhere as Jaime and Addam let the young woman’s body slump to the ground. Crouching beside Aemma’s body, Arya smiled and spoke venomously.

“Death has many faces. Today, yours is among them.”

Now as Jaime sat in bed beside Brienne with the memory playing out, he offered an innocent shrug. “I never understand half the things the little wolf says. I find it best to not question her.”

Brienne hummed and played with Joanna’s little fingers. The babe slowly drifted back to sleep in Brienne’s arms and all felt right in Jaime’s world.

Later that morning after breaking his fast with Brienne, Jaime moved quickly towards Selywn’s assigned room. There was one matter left to tend to before Jaime could move forward. Knocking lightly on Selwyn’s door, Jaime smiled as the older lord’s face came into view.

With a huff, Selwyn stepped into the hallway and placed a large arm over Jaime’s shoulders. “There you are! Took long enough.”

The men began walking towards the dungeons and making idle conversation. It seemed laughable to Jaime that they would have such pleasant conversation regarding trivial matters considering what was to come.

Arriving outside the cells, Selwyn smirked at the small group assembled. “I’m glad you’re all here on time despite our Consort lazing about.”

Jaime smirked at the group eager to extract their revenge. The Hound, Pod, Arya, Grey Worm, and Ned nodded at Selwyn before silently moving into the cells. Grabbing a torchlight from the wall, Grey Worm led the way. The group moved quietly down the corridor until they came to the cell containing Selwyn’s prize from Dragonstone.

Pulling open the door, the Hound let everyone move past him before reaching down to pick up their supplies which had been left outside the cell. Jaime’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as Grey Worm placed the torch on the post in the middle of the room. Sitting on the floor and chained to the wall, Ronnet’s eyes went wide as the group poured into the space.

Selwyn took a menacing step forward. In that moment, the man had never appeared larger to Jaime. It seemed as though his head may reach the ceiling if he didn’t hunch slightly.

“Ah Ronnet. Good morning. I trust you slept well considering it was to be your last sleep. Now forgive me, but it seems I was a bit unclear. I could have sworn that I threatened to gut you myself if we crossed paths again. It’s a strange thing though, you thought to kidnap my daughter. The Queen of the Eight Kingdoms. You’ve never struck me an intelligent man, Ronnet, but truly, that was your worst decision.”

At Selwyn’s words, Ronnet scrambled backwards along the wall as far as the chains would allow. The Hound and Grey Worm moved to Ronnet’s side and hauled him to his feet. Glancing to the floor, Selwyn reached down for something in the box that Sandor had set down upon entering the cell. A vicious smile stretched across Selwyn’s face as he moved towards Ronnet. He had a rose in one hand and a piece of wood in the other.

When Selwyn reached Ronnet, the older lord yanked down hard on Ronnet’s lower jaw. He shoved the piece of wood into one corner of Ronnet’s mouth to keep his jaw open wide. Stepping back and waving the rose in front of Ronnet, Selwyn snarled.

“You forgot your rose, Ronnet. That’s all you’ll get from me”

Without pause, Selwyn shoved the rose down Ronnet’s throat and left the stem sticking out of his mouth. Ronnet gasped and choked on the rose; his body flailing as Grey Worm and the Hound held him in place. One at a time, Arya, Ned, and Pod approached with a flower of their own to force it down Ronnet’s throat. Each offering a single parting phrase as they went.

“For Brienne.”

Selwyn switched places with the Hound so Sandor could make an offering of his own. One rose remained which Jaime picked up slowly. Ronnet was beginning to choke on his own vomit as he struggled for breath. Selwyn and Grey Worm held him firmly in place.

The Lord Commander was more than willing to help, but he, like Brienne, would have preferred a more noble execution. Grey Worm sighed and grimaced before turning his head away. Ronnet’s body began to twitch violently. For his part, Selwyn looked nothing short of pleased.

Jaime shoved the final rose down Ronnet’s throat. With a hard hit to Ronnet’s face with his false hand, Jaime snarled at the man. “For  _ my  _ Brienne.”

With the task done, Grey Worm and Selwyn released the traitorous knight from the Stormlands. Ronnet crumpled to the floor gagging as Selwyn and Jaime each stepped on Ronnet’s hands to prevent him from yanking at the stems. As Ronnet choked on his own vomit while suffocating slowly, everyone left the cell except Selwyn and Jaime. They wanted to be there when Ronnet took his last breath.

It was not much longer before Ronnet’s convulsing body was forever stilled. Glancing at Selwyn, Jaime saw the older lord’s eyes mist. The look reflected his anger and pain.

“I should have done that the day he hurt my little girl. If I had, perhaps things would have been different for her. Perhaps she would have known herself worthy of love and decency.”

Jaime’s eyes darted back to Ronnet. The redheaded knight had been one of many people in Brienne’s life who wounded her. It was a crime that Jaime himself was guilty of, and he hated knowing that some of her deepest emotional wounds were inflicted by his words and actions.

There was a satisfaction in seeing Ronnet killed in such a manner, yet a recognition that it would take far more than that for Brienne to heal.

“I’ll prove it to her every day for the rest of her life. You have my word.” 

Selwyn tugged Jaime into a firm hug. “I know you will. You already are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Execution summary for those preferring to skip it. Aemma is dead by Arya's hand (wearing Dorna's face). Ronnet is executed (death by flowers???).


	41. The Appointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few moons later, Sansa prepares to leave King's Landing.

Sansa walked quickly towards the throne room. At roughly seven moons pregnant, she was beginning to feel discomfort set in. Even sleep didn’t offer comfort as her nights proved restless.

It had been nearly five moons since the war with Daenerys, Euron, and Cersei. A moon turn ago, Sansa and Tyrion renewed their vows before the old gods. They had a small ceremony in the godswood at the Red Keep with only their closest family and friends. 

With her marriage to Tyrion, Sansa came to understand why Bran said that he could only be Castellan for a year. While his visions only showed so much, Bran saw Tyrion and Sansa at Winterfell with a babe. They would rule the North and Bran would take the role as Hand; not lord or king of anything, but something else.

The opportunity to have Bran on the small council negated the need for a formal Master of Whisperers. Despite Brienne being more than willing to keep Arya on the small council, the younger Stark had other plans. Arya and Gendry were to wed.

Originally, Arya had not planned to wed Gendry despite his constant requests for her hand. It wasn’t until Arya saw Jaime and Brienne happy together that she changed her mind. The realization that she could be a warrior and a wife made Arya reevaluate her initial decision to turn down Gendry.

Rather than immediately take their place at Storm’s End, they would name a Castellan and travel. Arya was eager to find out what lies west of Westeros. A small smile tugged at Sansa’s lips as she recalled Jaime’s response to Arya’s planned adventure.

_ ‘That’s stupid. Bran can just fly west and tell you. You’ll know by the night’s end if you want.’ _

Stepping into the throne room, Sansa nodded at the small council assembled. Today Sansa would formally step down as Hand and Bran would be named. They also had other appointments to make.

As she stood between Tyrion and Arya, Sansa smiled at the sight of Brienne and Jaime together. Brienne sat on the throne with Jaime standing at her side. They were inseparable since the war, and Jaime was proving to be an excellent Consort. While they currently had little need for a Master of War, Jaime had continued Ned’s project at the orphanage to see the children placed in loving homes.

Nearly all the orphans in the city had been placed and legitimized into their new Houses. The handful of children who had not yet been placed were given first access to some of the new programs offered by the Crown. Brienne wanted to ensure the children in King’s Landing were given the opportunity to become an apprentice in the trades that most interested them.

Looking at Brienne and Jaime now, Sansa noted the slight paleness touching Brienne’s cheeks. Only a fortnight ago, Brienne learned that she and Jaime were to have another babe. It was wonderful seeing Jaime present for the entirety of Brienne’s current pregnancy. He was very attentive and ensured that Brienne had sufficient rest and support.

With a nod to Brienne, Sansa moved towards the throne and called the room to order.

“First we have a new special council member to welcome. As we all know, the last representative from the Iron Islands was intercepted by Euron.”

Sansa raised a brow at Yara who stepped forward. The liege lady of the Iron Islands bowed respectfully to Brienne and smirked. “Ya grace, I thought it best to hand deliver my envoy this time. Lord Waldon Wynch will represent affairs of the Iron Islands.”

Yara pointed back at the man in question. With a nod, Brienne smiled at the older lord as he bowed and took his place with the rest of the special council.

Looking back to those assembled, Sansa continued announcing changes. “With Lord Tyrion departing for the North, we have a new Master of Coin who will sit on the small council. Lady Genna Frey will take the position of Master of Coin. Taking her place as representative to the West on the special council, Lady Genna has recommended Lady Lysa Swyft.”

The young lady came forward and curtseyed before the Queen. Sansa had met her two days prior with Brienne. Lady Lysa, who preferred to go by ‘Lizzie’, was of Sansa’s age, but that was where the similarities stopped. She wasn’t as tall as Brienne, but close in height and of similar build. She preferred the sword to the needle, and breeches to dresses.

The young woman struck Sansa as extremely intelligent and kind. Sansa instantly understood why she was nominated. Brienne and Genna had been conspiring to find a match for Ned. While they wanted to ensure Genna’s replacement was more than competent and qualified for the role, they also considered certain attributes that Brienne knew to be of interest to Ned; athletic, kind, and intelligent.

Biting back a smile, Brienne nodded at the young woman who quickly moved to stand among the rest of the special council. Sansa watched as Ned’s eyes went wide. As Lizzie moved to stand at the end of the row beside Ned, a whispered ‘hello’ passed between the pair. From beside Brienne, Jaime snorted and looked to the ceiling. He knew of Brienne’s plan and thought it ridiculous.

_ ‘He fell in love with my wife; there is simply no replacing Brienne. Ned’s fucked. Trust me,  _ **_I_ ** _ would know.’ _

After the announcement, Brienne stood on shaky legs. The pregnancy had been as difficult as the first and Sansa felt terribly for her friend. Summoning her full strength, Brienne spoke before the court.

“Lady Sansa Stark has served as Hand for a year now and will depart on the morrow with her husband, Lord Tyrion, to return home and rule in the North. She has served the Crown better than any Hand the crown has known before…”

Before continuing, Brienne cast a sly smirk at Tyrion who could do little more than huff a laugh in response.

“… and she will be missed dearly. Their ward, Lady Jeyne Greyjoy, will travel with them and remain in their care until she comes of age and can return home to learn the ways of ruling the Iron Islands from her cousin, Lady Yara Greyjoy.”

Yara snorted and muttered loud enough for most to hear; “Just remember, I don’t do nappies. Take your time with her.”

Brienne continued and looked to Bran. “Lord Bran Stark of Winterfell will take on the role of Hand. I’m certain he will be most  _ informative _ .”

Sansa smiled widely as she looked to her brother. In recent years, she worried about the role her brother would play in this world. He seemed uninterested in his birthright nor did he consider himself entirely man. It seemed he found his place, and Bran was looking forward to serving the Crown. In particular, he seemed quite excited at the prospect of driving the Consort to the point of madness.

Removing her hand pin, Sansa moved down the steps towards Bran. Her chest swelled with pride as she looked to her brother who had saved them all from Drogon. Placing the pin on Bran’s chest, Sansa leaned down and gave him a firm hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” Sansa whispered into Bran’s ear before stepping back.

Looking towards the crown, Bran smirked and he glanced between the Queen and Consort. “I’m happy to lend a  _ hand _ .”

The duel meaning hit its mark as Jaime shook his head and mumbled to Brienne. His voice was just loud enough for Sansa to hear. “Fucking torture.”

Sansa could see Brienne trying to bite back a laugh as she smiled and nodded at Bran.

Before sitting, Brienne looked to Grey Worm. “Lord Commander Torgo has one final appointment to make before we conclude.”

Grey Worm moved to the base of the stairs and stood tall. “We lose Ser Boros some moons ago. He was good man and Queensguard. Now we find new knight worthy to take his place.”

With a nod towards the back, the Queensguard came to the front of the room with their newest appointment. Walking proudly towards the throne, Ser Elia Sand bowed to Brienne.

Brienne had knighted the young woman herself. The young woman was one of Prince Oberyn’s bastards who Cersei had not captured and killed. She was a fierce warrior that proudly spoke of her bloodline’s connection to Nymeria, the Warrior Queen of Dorne who led ten thousand ships.

Sansa had seen Elia fight in the yards with Brienne. They were incredibly well-matched, though Brienne bested her. The men marveled at how well the two fought and how many men they knocked to the dirt with ease. Once Grey Worm saw Elia fight, it was an easy decision.

With a warm smile, Grey Worm nodded before swearing in Elia to the Queensguard. Both Brienne and Elia wished to see more women become knights in Westeros. They had discussed training programs throughout the Kingdoms to encourage as much.

As the newest Queensguard moved towards the side of the room, Sansa noted Yara’s eyes following the knight with great interest. Sansa smirked at the sight.

_ It seems Ned is not the only person to have taken interest in a new appointment today. _

Later that evening, Sansa planned to take dinner with Arya and Brienne. It was her last day in the city before moving north. She would miss her friend and sister dearly, but the change was for the best. Winterfell and the North needed stability.

Bran had done a fine job, but he made it clear to the North that it was not to be his permanent role. The Kingdom eagerly awaited the return of their liege lady; the young woman who helped reclaim the North for House Stark.

After leaving Jeyne in Tyrion’s care, Sansa stepped into the hallway to make her way towards the royal apartments. Moving down the hallway quickly was Genna and Septa Dalyna. Each woman held one of the twin girls. Sansa bit back a laugh at the sight. It was a scene quite familiar to her in recent moons.

Jaime was not particularly fond of taking a meal without his wife. On the rare occasions that Brienne was stolen away by the Stark sisters, dignitaries seeking a private meeting, or Selwyn when he visited, Jaime made certain to leave Brienne with something to remember him by. It struck Sansa as truly absurd how incapable the two knights were at keeping their hands off one another.

“How slowly should I walk towards their room?”

Genna huffed and shook her head. “Take a lap or ten around the gardens. Your sister has already asked Pod to let her know when the Queen is ready.”

Raising a knowing brow, Sansa moved out of the Tower of the Hand and towards Arya’s room.

_ Ridiculous. _

Sansa made her way towards the royal apartments. Arya’s room was off an adjoining hallway, but Sansa saw the Queensguard stationed outside Brienne’s and Jaime’s room as she passed.

Before she turned down the hallway, Sansa heard the door open. Jaime stepped out and nodded smugly towards Pod who stood on guard with Ser Balon. With a disapproving shake of his head, Pod huffed and watched Jaime walk off. The Lannister brothers would take supper together as Genna watched the three young babes.

As he moved down the hallway, Sansa paused and raised an unimpressed brow.

Jaime looked affronted at the expression. “What?”

“I was worried that I would be taking tea and dessert with Her Grace instead of dinner.”  _ Because you refuse to share her with anyone, nor are you able to keep your cock in your breeches around her. _

A most Lannister smile tugged at Jaime’s lips and his head tilted slightly. “And miss  _ dessert  _ with my wife? But that’s my  _ favorite  _ part of the meal. Do eat quickly please.”

Without another word, Jaime sauntered away whistling. Knowing the Lannister brothers, both were likely to drink their weight in wine and pass out snoring well before either had  _ dessert _ .

_ Insufferable idiot. I’ll miss him. _

Sansa collected Arya before continuing towards Brienne’s room. She was excited to hear of Arya’s plans to travel and wed Gendry. Naturally, Arya turned down Sansa’s offer for an extravagant Northern wedding, but she didn’t seem opposed to taking her vows in the godswood at Winterfell. The prospect of hosting a wedding excited Sansa.

When at last they were settled around the table on Brienne’s balcony, the three women fell into an easy conversation. Sansa looked at Brienne and teased.

“It’s a wonder you two get out of bed at all. I applaud you for finding time to rule the Kingdoms.”

Brienne huffed a laugh as a fierce blush spread across her face. “I’ve _ no idea  _ what you mean. It’s a political marriage and nothing more.”

All three chuckled at the words and Arya raised a brow. She leaned back in her chair after taking a forkful of the boar the staff brought up.

“One of you shits better name a babe after me. Perhaps it should be Brienne. I want a girl named after me to be a warrior; not a dainty priss.”

Sansa scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I fight battles in my own way. Besides, if I have a daughter, she can be a lady  _ and _ a knight.”

With a knowing nod at Brienne, Sansa smiled. It warmed Sansa’s heart to know that any daughter she had would be born into a world affording women more opportunity than when she was born. Whether a girl or a boy, her firstborn would inherit. Whether a girl or a boy, her child could be a knight. Even more importantly, her child could marry a man or a woman; for love.

Political marriages would always be important, and Sansa knew there were certain things they could not change, but to know that the possibility existed is what excited her most. Brienne was making the Kingdoms better for all; not just a select few. It had been one of the reasons Sansa felt safe supporting Brienne’s claim a year ago. She knew in her heart that Brienne would do right by the North, and by all kingdoms.

“What time does the ship leave for White Harbor?” Brienne looked inquisitively at Sansa.

“Around midday. It would be lovely if we could all break out fast together; Lannisters, Starks, Tarths, and Baratheons.”

The sentence sounded absurd. If anyone had told her six years ago that she would be hoping to break her fast with such a group, Sansa would have thought the person madder than Aerys.

A sly smile tugged at Arya’s lips. “Did I tell you? I’m going to take Gendry’s name.”

The words startled Sansa. Knowing Arya as she did, she assumed her little sister would do anything but conform. Sansa snorted and appraised her sister.

“So I’m to be the one to break tradition and remain a Stark, while you become a Baratheon. Gods. Mayhaps the dragon did burn us all and we’re dead.”

Arya shrugged and took another bite of her meal. “It makes more sense as we’re to live in the Stormlands. They accepted Gendry for his lineage and Lord Selwyn’s help. No need challenging that now by making Gendry a Stark.”

Sansa hummed in response. It was a surprisingly political consideration from Arya. Sansa had to admit that she was impressed by the decision.

“Is Tyrion to become a Stark then?” Arya’s eyes glistened with mischief as she questioned Sansa.

“No, he’ll be a Lannister, but our babes will take the Stark name. I suppose House Lannister may well fade away.”

Sansa spoke the words offhandedly, but she saw Brienne stiffen at her side.

“We’re uh… we’re to give our children both names.”

The Stark sisters looked questioningly to Brienne. “ _ What? _ How does that even work?”

Brienne sighed and shook her head. “I hardly know. I just thought they should be both; Tarth and Lannister. I never wanted my babes as a Tarth to punish Jaime. I felt it was the one thing that I could do for my father after he lost his only son. I could see House Tarth live on. At the same time, Jaime is from a Great House and the father of our babes. This newest babe is to inherit the Rock after all. So, I told him that the babes should be both.”

Sansa’s brows furrowed. “So… you’ll combine names?”

Arya snorted as her body shook with laughter. “Lannistarth.  _ Do it. _ ”

“No. We’re not making a new name.” Brienne huffed at Arya’s words. “They’ll just be  _ both _ . I don’t know. I haven’t really thought it through. When King Aegon IV legitimized his bastards, one of them made their own line; Blackfyre. Why can’t we do what we want where it concerns our children’s last names? Joanna Tarth Lannister and Alysanne Tarth Lannister?”

Confusion laced Sansa’s tone as she considered it. “Yes, I see your point, but… Lord Daemon Blackfyre picked one name; even if invented.”

“Just smush them together and call it a day.” Arya shoveled more food into her mouth as she spoke.

Sansa snorted; her tone teasing in reply. “Smush them together? Like Jaime and Brienne do with each other all day?”

At the words, Arya feigned disgust and stuck out her tongue. “No one wants  _ that _ . Just put a fucking line in between the names and be done with it then. Tarth-Lannister. Then it looks like one name, but still separate Houses.”

Brienne seemed intrigued by the idea. While Sansa still felt uncertain, she decided it best to let the matter go. Her babe would be a Stark, and her babes would someday have cousins bearing the Tarth, Lannister, Greyjoy, and Baratheon names.

_ Gods. If only my parents could see us now. _


	42. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty years later - Jaime and Brienne are ruling well with a large family of children and friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW in this chapter

_ Twenty years later _

“ _ Gods, Jaime _ . I can’t. I can’t again.”

Brienne lay panting on the bed as Jaime crawled back up her body, placing soft kisses as he went. Glancing down, Brienne ran a hand through his hair. Where once only golden locks awaited her fingers, there was now a smattering of grey and gold. 

Only hours earlier, Jaime had returned from Tarth after a week away. The first thing he did was drag Brienne to their chambers and disrobe her. If his letters from Tarth had been any indication, Jaime had missed Brienne more than propriety allowed discussing. 

A smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he found Brienne’s lips once more. Unlike many whose lust waned with age, Jaime’s desire for Brienne only seemed to grow. He recovered quickly for a man of nine-and-fifty. If their brood of nine children was any indication, they hardly lacked intimacy in their twenty years of marriage.

With a sly smile, Jaime nudged his cock against Brienne’s entrance making his desire clear.

“Then just lay there looking perfect and I’ll do all the work.” Jaime’s voice was teasing as his lips dragged along her jaw. The head of his cock dipped between her folds teasingly as he nibbled at Brienne’s earlobe. 

_ I’m going to need a lot of moon tea after this day is done. _

Jaime pushed into Brienne slowly. The pleasurable sensation of his cock stretching her walls never dulled with time. If anything, Brienne’s love and craving for Jaime only grew. 

Brienne’s legs wrapped around Jaime’s hips as he began pumping deep into her for the fourth time in a matter of hours. Her body felt boneless as the friction of Jaime’s body rubbing against her nub sent pleasurable sparks throughout her body. Every thrust of Jaime’s hips pushed her closer to the edge once more.

Raising her body wantonly to meet Jaime’s rhythmic movements, Brienne pulled Jaime closer with the heels of her feet. Her fingers dug into the flesh at his back, and a groan pushed past her lips. 

Pulling back his head to meet Brienne’s eyes, Jaime’s face spoke louder than any words of love ever could. The depth of his feelings was something that words could never dilute or mask. It seemed laughable to Brienne how willfully blind she had been to that look so many years ago. The look that conveyed just how much Brienne meant to him.

Unlike the first three couplings of the afternoon, this was slower and more tender. Jaime brought Brienne to pleasure once more before finding his own release. As they lay panting together, Brienne held Jaime close to her body. 

His words came out breathless as he mumbled into Brienne’s neck. “I missed you.”

A fond smile stretched across Brienne’s face as she considered the words. “I missed you too, but Jaime…”

“Hmmm…” Jaime hummed contentedly into Brienne’s skin as she tried to bite back a laugh.

“You have to stop sending such letters when you’re away. What if someone opened them before me?”

Jaime snorted and leaned on his forearms to look into Brienne’s eyes. “That is a crime punishable by death.”

“Jaime. You signed the letter with a picture of your  _ cock _ . That’s hardly decent. I was handed that letter in a small council meeting, and I thought my face would catch fire from embarrassment. Joanna  _ knew _ . She  _ always  _ knows. And then there was Bran…”

Biting back a laugh, Jaime shrugged and feigned innocence. “Well stop making me do my duty as Consort to the Kingdoms, and let me stay abed with you all day. Problem solved.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, but in truth, the idea sounded preferable. It seemed a small wonder the moon tea had worked effectively for the last eight years given how much time they spent in each other’s arms. Their youngest child, nine-year-old Jenny, was unexpected, but deeply cherished. At six-and-forty, Brienne had no desire for another babe. Her moonblood still came, so she was careful to ensure moon tea was always available at the Keep.

Of all the children, Jenny was the only one with traditional Targaryen features. She had silver hair and violet eyes that sparkled when she heard music. While all the children were musically inclined, Jenny seemed better able to communicate through music than words. She was a late talker, but she could always be found humming a tune and singing ballads learned from the myriad of musicians visiting the Red Keep.

As Jaime moved to his side and began to stroke Brienne’s cheek, she smiled and let her eyes flutter shut. She had missed him terribly over the past week. It felt as though a part of her was missing. They detested being apart more than anything, but over the years, duty called.

The trip to Tarth had been with Alysanne and Duncan. Duncan was their third child and eldest son. Unlike the twin girls, Duncan, a boy of twenty, was the true entrepreneur of the family. While the girls preferred to concentrate on the betterment of Westeros through government, Duncan preferred aiding the Kingdoms through financial means.

Just three years prior after much consultation with Selwyn and Genna, Duncan had mapped out plans to reopen the marble mines of Tarth and the gold mines at Casterly Rock. Newly discovered veins in each proved fruitful. 

Under Duncan’s direction, both mines began yielding excessive volumes of the highly sought-after marble and gold. As many of the Great Houses and more prominent vassals in Westeros built sections of their Keeps anew with the popular marble, Tarth saw demand increase to the point of nearly depleting the mines.

The West had long thought their gold mines dry. While the West’s purse had improved greatly over the years under Genna’s effort, the gold reinvigorated the Kingdom and saw House Lannister become the wealthiest House in the Eight Kingdoms once more. 

A week ago, Jaime had been summoned to Tarth when another section of the mountainside was discovered to boast scores of marble. After ensuring enough financial stability for Tarth and Casterly Rock to last several generations, Brienne and Jaime began using the excess wealth to purchase dilapidated Keeps in each Kingdom, and to invest in more programs for the people. 

With nine children, Brienne and Jaime owned land in each Kingdom. They wished to repair rundown Keeps to reinvigorate the surrounding villages. Alysanne would inherit the Crown, Joanna would inherit Tarth, and Duncan would inherit Casterly Rock. 

Every other child was afforded land and a repaired Keep in the remaining kingdoms. All Jaime and Brienne asked in return was that each child give back to the Kingdom they took land in. They challenged all their children to identify the greatest needs of the Kingdom they would someday call home, and invest in programs aimed at aiding the people. 

At eight-and-ten, their fourth born, Catelyn, was given land in the North. Much to Jaime’s dismay, Catelyn was now betrothed to Ned Baratheon. Like Catelyn, Ned was eight-and-ten. He was the second child of Arya and Gendry. Like the spouses of their other children, Cat and Ned were a love match.

Brienne found the match infinitely amusing to watch Jaime wrestle with emotionally. The pair would soon settle down at the lands bestowed upon Catelyn. They would live at what once was the Dreadfort, but Jaime now referred to as the Sapphire Hills. 

The name was born out of his hatred of all things Bolton and the blue caps of the mountains seen in the distance during the winter. Like the woman she was named after, Cat was a true force. In many ways, the North became her, and it felt fitting that she would live near her dearest aunt and uncle. 

As for Arya and Gendry, they had sailed west twenty years ago in pursuit of Arya’s dreams to discover what, if anything, lay west of Westeros. It was on their travels that they encountered Brienne’s ancestors. An entire kingdom of tall, blonde warriors lived on a string of islands stretching up from the sea. It was on that voyage that their first child was born; Jon Baratheon. 

Upon their return, Bran shared that it was from those islands where House Tarth descended. Before the dawn of man, an exiled prince had sailed east to Westeros and found uninhabited land that later became known as Tarth. While Ser Duncan certainly helped the Tarth line retain their height, he was far from the first of such stature.

For some years now, the discovered lands had been trading with all of Westeros; the Eight Kingdoms and the Free Folk. The Free Folk had been thriving under Tormund’s leadership, and relations between the kingdoms and Wildlings was strong. With their newfound relationship with the lands west of Westeros, the three groups had little need for the Iron Bank.

Initially, Jaime was leery of the frequent trade meetings with Tormund. The man continued to look at Brienne as though she was a piece of meat in need of devouring. As men and women from the lands west of Westeros began settling in Westeros, a woman caught Tormund’s eye who could have passed for Brienne’s long, lost twin. 

Tormund went on to have two children with his new love and he spent years trying to convince Brienne that their children should marry. No amount of words could sway Jaime, but Brienne committed to Tormund that if their children found love together, they would support it.

After Cat, Brienne and Jaime had their son Galladon. Gal was five-and-ten, and he would inherit the land purchased in the Vale. He was obsessed with the Kingdom and its legendary knights. Ever the reader like his Uncle Tyrion, Galladon loved pouring through books detailing the legend of the Winged Knight.

Their daughter Rohanne, who was four-and-ten, would inherit lands in the Riverlands. She was a romantic at heart and loved hearing tales of her parents’ travels through the Riverlands where her father gave his hand and heart to their mother. In what proved to be the greatest undertaking of their acquired lands and rundown Keeps, Jaime and Brienne purchased and restored Harrenhal. It would be the seat of Rohanne when the time came. 

Brienne had a feeling she knew who Rohanne would marry. She was sweet on Arthur Dayne. Arthur was the younger son of Ned and Lizzie Dayne. As Brienne expected, the pair fell in love twenty years prior. They had two children who they loved dearly; six-and-ten Elia Dayne and four-and-ten Arthur Dayne.

Given their close proximity at court, Arthur and Rohanne had become inseparable. They were both skilled with a sword, loved visiting the city orphans, and had romantic hearts. Unbeknownst to their parents, the pair had already exchanged secret kisses as they played monsters and maidens with the children in the city. Pod knew, but he never gave away the secret.

Pod was now the second in command of the Queensguard. A romantic himself, Pod could not stop meeting and falling in love with women from across the Kingdoms. He had already been married and divorced twice, and he had two young children from the unions. 

The first marriage ended after only a year when the woman’s husband came home from travel in Essos. To this day, Brienne struggled to hold back laughter at Pod’s telling of the tale. The poor squire turned knight had no idea the woman was married, but they had a daughter from that year together; a girl of five and ten named Bri.

Pod’s second marriage lasted a day. On a trip to Dorne with Ser Bronn and Ned Dayne, Pod drank too much and ‘fell in love’ with a serving girl at an inn. They found a Septon who was equally drunk to make official their ‘true love’. The next day, Pod and the girl decided it best to part ways, but it seemed he left her with quite a bit to remember him by. Nine moons later, Pod’s son was born. He named the boy Tyrion in honor of his dear friend. 

Tyrion was now ten years old and quite the rambunctious young man. Both of Pod’s children lived with him at the Red Keep. He hired a Septa to watch over the children while he was on duty, but the children were otherwise a part of Brienne’s and Jaime’s large family. 

Pod’s children were as sweet as him despite their never-ending energy. Little Tyrion spent most of his day trailing after the twins; Selwyn and Arthur. Brienne’s and Jaime’s two-and-ten year old twin boys were already massive. They bore a striking resemblance to Jaime, and the twins stole away with the hearts of all the attendants. 

Now as Brienne lay in bed humming under Jaime’s gentle touch, she thought of what needed to be done in the small council meeting that was to begin soon. It took a great deal of effort, but she was soon able to get Jamie to leave the bed and clothe himself. 

Stepping into the hallway, Brienne smiled fondly at Grey Worm and Sandor. “Hello Torgo. Sandor.”

Both men smiled and nodded as they fell into step behind their Queen. Jaime’s arm looped around Brienne’s hip as they walked towards the council chambers. Calling back over her shoulder, Brienne spoke warmly.

“Torgo, how is Yanice doing?”

Straining to meet Grey Worm’s eyes, Brienne noted the relief there. “Much better. Fever pass now.”

Yanice was the youngest of four children who Grey Worm adopted when he married a widow named Nissa. Nissa had been living in King’s Landing after moving with her family from Ibben. She was a sweet woman who practiced as a healer in the city. 

Sadly, her husband was killed when Daenerys first laid siege to King’s Landing over twenty years ago. They had only been living in King’s Landing for six moons before the Dragon Queen came. Nissa’s oldest had been in the city center with her husband. Both were killed in the attack.

Nissa and Grey Worm met on the distribution line as people returned to the city after Euron’s and Cersei’s defeat. She had birthed Yanice only a moon turn before Brienne birthed the twin girls. The twins grew up close to Yanice on account of their age, and the girls adored their friend.

It had been wonderful to watch Grey Worm fall in love with a wonderful woman. After losing Missandei, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard often seemed sullen and lonely. He and Brienne grew close over the years. They spent many nights sitting before the fire and speaking in Valyrian on numerous topics. When he shared his interest in Nissa, Brienne felt her chest swell with happiness for her friend.

Glancing at Sandor, Brienne smirked. “Ser Sandor… nice flowers.”

The knight huffed and clawed at his hair. Stray petals fell to the floor as he grumbled. Sandor was another knight who found love. He had married the Riverlands’ representative several years ago; a widow named Lady Alys Blackwood. While she already had seven children with her first husband, Lord Tytos Blackwood, Lady Alys and Sandor had one child together; a girl of six named Arya.

Unlike the very woman she was named after, little Arya had no desire for swords and horses. She enjoyed playing with dolls and forcing her big, tough father to participate in teatime. Little Arya was often found making flower crowns and placing them atop her father’s head.

Sandor acted as though it pained him, but the smile tugging at his lips was as clear to see as Jaime’s love for Brienne. 

As the petals fell from Sandor’s head, Jaime snorted. “I preferred you in the yellow flowers than blue.”

“Fuck off, Lannister. If my girl wants to play princess teatime, I’ll play princess fucking teatime with whatever bloody flowers she wants.”

Brienne chuckled at the exchange. Glancing over her shoulder once more, she smirked at Sandor. “Don’t worry Ser Sandor, Jaime often gets crammed into my dresses by Jenny for his tea parties.”

Feigned betrayal shone in Jaime’s eyes as Grey Worm and Sandor laughed at their backs. “How  _ dare  _ you give away my secret life as the ultimate princess of King’s Landing. You’re all just jealous that you’re not invited.”

The Hound stood outside the small council chambers as they arrived and Brienne, Jaime, and Grey Worm stepped inside. Brienne’s eyes fell on Bran and Duncan. Her oldest son was beaming as he spoke with his soon to be goodfather. 

Bran had married Lady Meera Reed many years ago. Despite Bran’s paralysis, he somehow managed to get Meera with child not once, but four times. His courtship with Meera had been as marked by bumbling failures as Jaime’s courtship with Brienne. It took several attempts and many fights born out of miscommunication for Bran to finally express himself properly to Meera. 

Jaime had been happy for Bran, despite teasing him endlessly at how poorly it all went. It seemed the men had unintentionally dueled one another for the title of ‘Worst wooing in the history of Westeros’. At Brienne’s side, Jaime began to grumble.

Duncan had fallen in love with Bran’s eldest daughter, seven-and-ten year old Lyanna Reed. Given Bran’s insistence that he couldn’t be lord of anything, he took Meera’s last name when they wed. In addition to Lyanna, Bran and Meera had two other daughters and a son. In spite of their constant bickering, Bran and Jaime had grown close over the years. It was not surprising to Brienne when Bran named his oldest son after Jaime. 

Brienne looked around the table and smiled. When Genna passed away two years prior, Duncan was named Master of Coin. The role suited him and afforded Duncan the opportunity to pester Bran about wedding details in between sessions. 

The loss of Genna had been hard on Jaime. It had been the first time since the strained initial months of their marriage that Brienne saw Jaime cry. The sight of Jaime hurting broke Brienne’s heart, but she supported him through the loss. 

Next to Bran and Duncan was Alysanne. As heir to the Iron Throne, Jaime and Brienne included her in all council sessions. They wanted her to see how the kingdoms were run and what was expected of a sovereign. Beside Alysanne was Archmaester Arianna, Master of Health. 

Instead of keeping the Grand Maester on the council, Brienne revised the role to instead be in charge of all medical matters across the kingdoms. Archmaester Arianna looked after programs aimed at ensuring the health and wellbeing of the people; a significant change from the Grand Maester’s area of responsibility. Further, she was the first female maester in the history of the Eight Kingdoms. The Citadel had taken Brienne’s lead in overlooking tradition to offer opportunity to men and women. 

Grand Maester Tyton had passed away many years ago, but a new Grand Maester replaced him. The role was now responsible for the primary care of the royal family, but did not sit on the small council. 

Beside Archmaester Arianna was Ser Davos who still occupied his role as Master of Ships. Davos ws getting on in age, but still energetic and sharp. Sitting beside Davos, Grey Worm took his place. While he was still Lord Commander of the Queensguard, his title and area of responsibilities were extended to include command of the Royal Army. His formal title was now Master of Defense, and his position was now among the most powerful and influential in Westeros.

To his side was Maester Samwell Tarly, Master of Education. After completing his studies under Maester Tyton and finishing his education at the Citadel, Sam had returned to King’s Landing an official maester. Given his never-ending thirst for knowledge, Brienne placed him in charge of the new education system she had put into place across the kingdoms. 

Brienne had made it her mission to provide education to all regardless of station. Each Kingdom now offered studies at a University that was funded by the crown. It was one of many projects supported by Duncan’s efforts as Master of Coin. The university offered basic studies and trades to prepare the youth of the Eight Kingdoms. 

To ensure funding could continue for generations to come, Duncan and Lord Selwyn partnered to establish the Bank of Tarth. It was the first bank available to Westeros, and it would ensure they never again had to rely on the Iron Bank. 

Rounding out the small council was Brienne’s niece, Lady Jeyne Greyjoy. She had taken on the role of Master of Laws. Under the tutelage of her aunt and uncle, Jeyne was as sharp as they came. Despite picking up some choice phrases from her cousin, Lady Yara, Jeyne was an extraordinary woman. Brienne and Jaime were quite proud of the woman she had grown to be.

Despite everything that happened between the Lannister twins, Jaime was pleased to see a small part of Cersei live on. Like her mother, Jeyne was politically savvy. Unlike Cersei, she was not cruel or power hungry. Jeyne had met and fallen in love with Tormund’s son who was two years younger; Mance Giantsbane. Mance happily took the Greyjoy name, though Jaime didn’t know which name he preferred less.

Looking at Jeyne, Brienne thought of Cersei. Some years after Cersei’s death, Brienne encouraged Jaime to move her remains to the Rock. They had previously buried her body with the children in King’s Landing, but they were exhumed and moved to the Rock where they could be laid to rest forever. It seemed a more fitting place for his kin, and Brienne wanted to ensure Jaime had closure.

Brienne knew that there was nothing to compete with where it concerned Cersei. Jaime had committed horrible deeds for his family, but he performed his greatest for Brienne, their children, and the Kingdoms. They had been honest with their children about Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. The conversation had not been easy, but they felt it important that the children heard it from them rather than another.

The council met for over an hour as each representative provided an update from their area. As the council ended, a missive was delivered to Brienne. It had the sigil of House Stark, and Brienne smiled at the sight.

Moving from the room, Brienne leaned into Jaime as he placed an arm around her waist. The letter was short, but distinctly Tyrion. 

_ To my favorite sibling and her Consort,  _

_ I am excited to see you all at the Rock in six moons for Prince Duncan’s wedding to Lady Lyanna Reed. It is with great regret that I must inform you that your nephew, Robb Stark, will be unable to attend. His lady wife is to deliver our first grandbabe in as many moons! _

_ In honor of Prince Duncan and the future member of House Stark, I’ll bring the wine! I know how much you both love a Dornish red. I daresay that after your ninth child in twenty years, I have very little desire to play any drinking game with the pair of you lest I risk a view of my brother’s golden  _ **_assets_ ** _ later in the evening.  _

_ Speaking of, any ideas for wedding gifts for Dunk and Lyanna? Council chairs to break? Plates to throw to the floor? Ronnets to maul? _

_ Well, I need to get back to Sansa’s side. I can hear the twins attempting to murder one another from across the Keep. Do you suppose it’s because we named them Eddard and Jaime that they insist on trying to commit kinslaying?  _

_ Love, _

_ Tyrion Lannister-Stark  _

Brienne and Jaime chuckled at the letter as they walked towards the yards. No matter how much changed around them, they would never change their evening sparring sessions. Unlike many years ago, they did not climb down the castle wall to get there. 

For an hour, they circled one another with swords raised and mirth in their eyes. The sun began to set when their blades were sheathed once more. Jaime slipped his hand into Brienne’s and pulled her to the edge of the yard. They sat and looked over the Blackwater in companionable silence before Joanna’s voice called out in the distance.

“Mom! Dad! Guess what!?”

At Joanna’s eager voice, Jaime and Brienne turned to look at their daughter. Her face was aglow as she wedged herself between them. Their second oldest spoke teasingly as she sat.

“Come on, move over. We don’t need number ten coming along anytime soon.”

Brienne huffed and shook her head. Glancing to her right, she studied her daughter’s face.

“What has you all excited?”

“It’s about Rhaegar.” At the mention of her betrothed, Joanna’s cheeks pinked. 

Rhaegar was the second born son of Jon Snow and his wife, Lady Celeste. Celeste was from Volantis and Jon had met her while traveling there on behalf of the Crown. When she had first met the woman, Brienne nearly stumbled in shock. She looked very much like Daenerys, but her eyes were kinder and her temper nonexistent. 

The pair had wed almost twenty years ago; a mere two moons after meeting. Despite how rash it was, they were a love match and were happily wed just as much years later. Rhaegar was eight-and-ten; only three years younger than Joanna. While Brienne had legitimized Jon to name him Jon Targaryen, he still went by Snow to those who knew him best.

Smiling at her daughter, Brienne spoke quietly. “What of Rhaegar?”

“Well… I asked after the name we’ll take when we marry. I did not want to wind up being so absurd about it like the pair of you.”

Jaime and Brienne snorted as they leaned back slightly to see around Joanna. With amusement heavy in his voice, Jaime questioned Joanna. “ _ Gods. _ Are you to be Joanna  _ Targaryen _ ? Your grandfather may die at the shock of a Targaryen ruling Tarth.”

Joanna beamed and smiled widely. “I asked if he wished me to be Joanna Targaryen. He just said, ‘I don’t want it.’ He’ll take my name! He’ll be Rhaegar Tarth-Lannister! We’ll get to see another generation of Tarths on Tarth. He knows how special it is to continue the Tarth line on Tarth.”

Brienne felt an overwhelming happiness well within. While she was merely pleased to see her daughter in love, it was wonderful to hear that they would keep the Tarth name on Tarth. 

They spoke a while longer before Joanna returned inside to spend time with Duncan and Alysanne. The three eldest children were the closest of the nine and hated to be apart for too long. Jaime closed the space left by Joanna and placed an arm around Brienne’s shoulder.

“I suppose the last name was a good idea after all. It would have been a shame to not have a Tarth on Tarth.”

Turning to meet Jaime’s eyes, Brienne smirked. “As it would have been a shame to not have a Lannister at the Rock.”

Jaime chuckled lightly before burying his face against Brienne’s neck. He exhaled and repeated the words he so often spoke over the years. “I should have stayed.”

Shaking her head, Brienne squeezed Jaime’s right knee as it pressed close against hers. “No. Then we wouldn’t have Jeyne. She’s a wonderful young woman.”

A burst of warm air pushed against Brienne’s skin as Jaime sighed. “I know, but… I almost lost you.”

Pulling back her head, Brienne looked into Jaime’s eyes. “But you didn’t. You saved me.”

The love in Jaime’s eyes burned brighter than the setting sun. Brienne’s mind wandered back to the moon turn after Cersei’s death.

_ 21 years earlier _

“Jaime, where are we going?”

Brienne’s eyes were wide as Jaime stepped over the balcony of their room and began to descend to the ground below. Glancing back towards the door to her room, Brienne recalled how poorly it turned out the last time she snuck out of her room to avoid the Queensguard. 

“Do you trust me?” Jaime stopped his progress and looked up at Brienne. The moon was high in the sky and Brienne much preferred to be in bed than headed to the yards. 

With a sigh, she nodded and lifted a leg over the balcony railing. Brienne followed Jaime down and felt his hand at her waist before her foot hit the ground.

Raising a finger to his lips, Jaime smiled before grabbing her hand and tugging Brienne away from the Keep. Brienne had been surprised to see Jaime headed away from the yards. Moving quickly, they soon came to stand outside the Royal Sept. 

“What are we doing?” Brienne whispered and looked back towards the Keep. 

“Marry me.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. “We  _ are  _ married.”

Jaime shook his head in refute. “We said the words, but that wedding was shit. I didn’t even get to kiss you properly.”

Pushing open the Sept door, Brienne’s eyes went wide as she scanned the space. Candlelight lined the path to the front of the room where the Septon stood expectantly. With a knowing smile, he waved them forward. 

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime tightened his grip on her hand. “Please. Let me do this properly.”

A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face and she nodded happily. At her agreement, a weight seemed to lift from Jaime’s shoulders. They moved towards the front of the Sept and stood giddily before the same Septon who had married them not even a year ago.

“Do you have a cloak, Ser Jaime?”

Reaching into his jerkin, Jaime produced Joanna’s swaddle that Brienne had stitched. A loud laugh pushed past her lips and she quickly moved to cover mouth as the sound echoed off the Sept walls. Jaime’s shoulders shook with laughter and his voice was teasing. 

“Apologies. The lion is a bit deranged looking. I’ll voice my complaint to the seamstress later.”

The small swaddle barely covered her shoulders, but Brienne could hardly contain the mirth bursting from within. Unlike the first ceremony, their eyes never left each other. Any mirth faded when they spoke their vows. The look in Jaime’s eyes reminded Brienne of when he knighted her. 

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

The Septon concluded the ceremony as he did the first time, and Jaime smiled warmly as he said his final words. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” 

Closing the space between them, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne and placed a deep kiss to her lips. The sensation made Brienne’s stomach flutter. The Sept faded away and it was only them. Any memories of the awful wedding from not even a year ago were quickly replaced.

As Jaime broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against Brienne’s. A wide smile stretched across his face as their eyes met. 

At their side, the Septon smiled and huffed a small laugh. “Much better the second time. I’ll leave you two be.”

The sound of the Septon’s retreating footsteps echoed off the walls around them. Before Brienne could speak, Jaime placed another kiss to her lips. When he pulled back again, Jaime looked deep into Brienne’s eyes.

“I never got to tell you the truth.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed in question once more. “Tell me the truth?”

Jaime’s flesh and false hand came to Brienne’s face just as hers had in the courtyard at Winterfell over a year ago. Taking a deep breath, Jaime spoke in hushed tones.

“I pushed a Stark boy out of a window, crippled him for life, for Cersei, but I kept my oath to keep the Stark girls safe, for you. I strangled my cousin by my own hand, just to get back to Cersei, but I lost that hand, for you. I would have murdered every man, woman, and child at Riverrun, for Cersei, but I found a peaceful way to take the castle, for you. She’s hateful, and so was I… until I loved you.”

The words took Brienne’s breath away. She stared at him through watery eyes before he pulled her back in for another tender kiss. His arms wrapped tightly around Brienne and as Jaime broke the kiss, he buried his head into her neck. 

Jaime’s voice was thick with tears as his lips brushed against Brienne’s ear. “Since I’ve loved you, my actions have never been for Cersei. Only for  **_you_ ** .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My end notes didn’t save the first time!   
> There are a couple of reader requests/comments here. Someone in earlier chapters wanted a Sandor with a sweet little girl playing princess with her daddy. Here it is!   
> Someone else wanted our beloved Torgo to find love (which of course had to happen!)  
> Thanks to Lizzie for working with me! Loved your idea and I’m happy you let me bring it it life!


End file.
